Grey Skyes
by DocumenteKaze232111
Summary: First in the "Skye" Trilogy. The shadow of SL-9 lingering over her, Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye struggles to protect her sister. Meanwhile, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth faces challenges of his own, a phone call from a certain adoptive sibling merely warning him of the inevitable. Their paths cross; and suddenly, things seem to go from bad to worse... Accepting character(s) for sequel.
1. Stray Astray

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter One : Stray Astray**

August 22

7 : 30 a.m – Skye Residence

"Ema, I..." The shatered remains of the birthday gift on the tiled kitchen floor screamed that any apology given would only rub salt into a gaping and bloody wound, and yet, Lana Skye spoke regardless. "I did not mean..."

Ema Skye, younger sister to the successful, yet cold, Chief Prosecutor, said dully, "Forget it, Lana." The teenager had turned away from her sister, kneeling and gathering the remains of the gift, which had been knocked out of her hands just seconds before by her older sister. "You obviously have much more important buisness to attend to than celebrate your birthday."

Lana watched, speechless, as Ema tipped the pieces of the gift into the waste bin. Then she fled, pushing past her sister to the stairs leading to her bedroom. "Maybe Miss Fey was right," Ema called from the top-most stair, her voice weighted with pain and resentment, "You really have changed." Lana froze, mimicking a deer in the headlights of a vehicle. Only when did Ema slam her bedroom door, causing the apartment walls to quiver, did Lana relax slightly.

The Chief Prosecutor sighed as she stooped to the title floor, finding many of the broken pieces. _I did not mean to destroy the gift. _She mused as she began the task of sweeping the shards into the duspan that she quickly retrieved from under the sink, _I did not intend to do so. _

As Lana opened the waste bin to dump the pieces, she froze once more.

The letter **Q **stared back at her. It seemed to have been created by hand, having been once attached to a platform. She allowed herself a very rare, small twitch of the lip, as she realized what her sister had intended to give her. _A 'Queen of Prosecutors' trophy. _She poured the pieces of the ruined gift into the bin. _She must still believe me to be 'the best of the best'._

The thought caused a shard of terrible guilt to sieze her. _'The best of the best'. _Considering her rank inside the Prosecutors Office, the outside populace would believe her to be the best. _But I digress. I would rather be the 'best of the best' to you as your sister and only family – but after the that incident...I am sorry. It is best if I continue as I have for the past two years._

_ Two years. It has been two years since the SL-9 incident. So little time has passed since that terrible day, and yet, it feels like everything has changed. As if I will never return to the way things were...but again I digress. I can never turn back now._

So accustomed of the silence was she, that she was startled when an all-too-familiar melody began to play from the pocket of her jeans. She sighed and took out the device, flipping the bronze-collored phone open.

The I.D. Of the caller read: **DAMON GANT. **_Obviously. I was hoping against logic that the tone did not belong to him._ She mentally sighed as she pressed the "send" key. She said, keeping her tone steady and cool, "Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye." As soon as he spoke, her stomach took an unpleasant dive. She was sure her expression, which she had tried to keep neutral, twisted in pain.

"Happy birthday, Lana!" She was sure she heard him slapping his hands together. "Now, Lana, how old are you? Twenty-nine, right? What about dinner, my treat?" She grit her teeth. _Ema wanted to do the same tonight._ The hateful words of her youngest sister echoed in her head._ What makes you think I would agree? _"Ah, but sadly, we need you here, Chief Prosecutor."

"Oh?" She asked coolly.

_ Whatever it is, _She thought privately, _Hopefully it will keep me past midnight. I could not bear to face Ema again today. _She ignored the pain that even thinking of her sister brought her. _Ema... _Her thoughts were cut short by a loud, cherry laugh.

"Yes, strange going-ons here at the Prosecutor's Office..." _What is Damon doing at the Prosecutor's Office? _The SL-9 Incident had secured Damon Gant's promotion to Chief of Police. _The SL-9 Incident was also,_ She mused, _The cause of my immediate placement as Chief Prosecutor over this district of San Diego. _"Can you imagine, Lana, a witness being found guilty of the crime he'd been called in to testify about? Such a thing is unheard of!"

_Did I hear that correctly? _"I beg your pardon?"

"A witness, Chief Prosecutor Skye." He was mocking her now. She heard it within his voice. "A witness, previously called in to testify about a murder case, was found to have committed the crime himself. And the evidence the rookie Defense Attorney presented proved it."

"The Defense Attorney, who was it?"

At the end of the line, Damon paused. As he spoke, her eyes widened in surprise. "A Mr. Phoenix Wright – apparently, he is the student of Defense Attorney Mia Fey...I believe you two know each other?"_Mia...Mia Fey? I have not heard that name in years... Since my schooling years ended. I remember she would do anything to become a Defense Attorney – anything. _Another thought struck her. _She and I were rather close friends, as I recall. _

"Fey?" She replied coldly, "I believe we went to the same school." _And we happened to be the best of friends during that time, but you do not need to know that particular piece of information._ "That hardly counts for knowing each other nowadays, Chief Gant."

"Indeed. Well, her little rookie has caused quite the stir within your people – Winston Payne is beside himself, the poor man!" _That nervous wreck of a man would be beside himself even if this hadn't happened- a rookie beat him._ "You had better tell your sister you're going to be late tonight. I can just see all the paperwork flooding your office – get here immediately. Oh, and Lana?"

His voice had changed. It was menacing – the voice that he concealed from the public eye, as she concealed her emotions. She grimanced as if she had been struck, feeling the uneasy emotion within the pit of her stomach slowly beginning to return. "Yes, Chief?"

"Happy birthday." Damon disconnected the line. She slowly closed the bronze device, staring at it as if it had grown fangs and a tail.

_ He is trying to unnerve me. That is all. There is no threat. _Chanting those words within herself, she took her briefcase, which she had placed upon the kitchen table just before Ema had greeted her, stuffing the cell phone into her pocket.

She heard a soft thud from the stairs. With a careful, yet regretful glance toward the staircase, she left her home. It was August, but her sister, having been placed in a special schooling program, did not begin until September.

She allowed herself a moment of pride, before locking her emotions away with the door and hurrying down the creaky metal stairs toward her sky-blue SUV, stowing her briefcase in the trunk before settling into the front seat and turning the ignition.

From the top of the stairs, Ema Skye listened until she heard the clicksignifying that her sister had left the apartment, and waited for the roar of the sky-blue SUV. She knew her sister rarely forgot anything. So when she thundered down the stairs and ripped the kitchen phone off its cradle and furiously dialed a number, she did so without hesitation.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

August 22

8 : 13 – Main Avenue

_Linkin Park, "Numb"_

**"I'm tired of being what you want me to be,**

**Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface **

**Don't know what you're expecting of me**

**But under the pressure, of walking in your shoes...**

**[Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow]**

**Every step that I take is another mistake to you...**

**[Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow]**

**I've become so numb, I can't feel you there -**

**Become so tired, so much more aware -**

**I'm becoming this, all I want to do**

**Is be more like me, and be less like you..."**

Lana switched off the radio. The blaring noise of what sounded like a punk rock-band distracted her unnessisarily from the task at hand – the hellish traffic of San Diego prevented her from a luxury she used to enjoy as a teenager. _Not that I "went wild" like some other teenagers do._

She had been forced to grow up fast, because of the deaths of her parents in a car accident just after her sixteenth birthday. She raised Ema, not wanting to seperate from her little sister – her only remaining family. In those days, she worried about rent, keeping several jobs at once, and her education. _How simple those days were_, Lana reflected, almost wistfully, _Ema and I were inseperable._

_ "Lana, Lana! Happy birthday, sis!" Lana rose her thin brows as her sister came tumbling down the stairs, a brightly wrapped package held tightly in her hands. "I made this for you! Open it, open it!" Her beaming smile almost made Lana crumble – almost. She retained her cold demeanor. She had to._

_ "Ema," She said coolly, "I do not have time for this." She stood up and emptied her bowl, half emptied of bland oatmeal, into the sink. She slowly washed her bowl, not daring to turn and face her little sister, whom she strongly supposed would burst into tears. She was surprised when, against her prediction, Ema held fast, and stood her ground before her as she turned around._

_ Her expression was strong, as she presented the gift proudly, although her smile had transformed into a frown. Her light brown eyes, which she had inherited from their father, were pleading. "Please, Lana? Just one, I promise! And tonight we can - "_

_ "No, Ema.I have to leave."_

_ "But – Lana! It's your birthday! We have to celebrate!" Ema pleaded with her. Lana felt her heart clench as she looked into her siter, pain cutting deep into it as she shook her head, her cold eyes and expression never once giving away. She had to stay strong._

_ "But -" Lana felt her arm moving upon its own accord. She struck the gift from the hands of her sister, and it fell to the tiled kitchen floor. It shattered, ripping the flimsy box and scattering over the floor. Lana saw Ema's expression transform from hopeful to fear, from fear to anger. Lana knew at that moment that she had gone too far. _

_ "Ema, I..."_

**BEEP, BEEEEP! **An obnoxious horn tore her from her memories of that morning.

She sped forward, the traffic sign having been green for a while now, and the vehicle that had sounded its horn sped past her. It was a bright magenta in color, and rather old-fashioned for this day and age. She knew that vehicle. _I have seen it every day for almost three years, in the parking lot of the Prosecutor's Office. Its owner as well – at least from afar. We rarely need to speak to each other. _Her suspicions were confirmed as she had no choice but to follow the magenta vehicle into the parking lot of the office, and she watched as the silver-haired man parked vehicle.

_Miles Edgeworth: the rising star of the Prosecutor's Office. A young and very talented young man – but plagued constantly by many, whom accuse him of arranged testimony, false evidence..._

She sighed quietly, stowing that particular thought away into a corner of her mind. She parked her vehicle and had just taken her briefcase from the trunk of her sky-blue SUV when she heard a deep, handsome voice from behind her, "Chief Prosecutor Skye?"

She slowly turned to face him. Miles Edgeworth, whom she had arranged to deal false evidence in court that day, two years ago. "Mr. Edgeworth." She said in greeting, her eyebrows arching in surprise – the rising Prosecutor usually made it a point not to go near her. "Is there something you need?" _What now? I am very nearly late, and there is a crisis that needs to be solved inside this very building._

"Have you heard?" He asked bluntly. _Obviously, he is refering to the incident with a certain Prosecutor Winston Payne and Mr. Phoenix Wright. _

"Yes." She said, motioning for him to walk beside her as she stepped forward, which he complied to without hesitation. At her answer, he seemed almost nervous. _Though what for, I have not the faintest idea._ "The incident that occured in which a witness, called by Prosecutor Payne, was found to have committed the crime in question, the latter proven by a Mr. Phoenix Wright."

"...Exactly." The young Prosecutor agreed after a pause, only slightly troubled by the fact. He seemed resigned. _At what, I do not want to know. Is this what he wanted, to know whether I knew about this? _"Prosecutor Payne was brought before a tribunal hearing, from what a Detective on the case told me this morning. I was hoping to catch you," He added, glancing toward her, "I thought you needed to be told immediately - the tribunal intends to terminate Payne for this mistake."

Lana refused to meet his dark eyes, staring straight ahead. From the corner of her eye, she saw Miles stare at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether she was friendly or not. She said, "I did not know about the tribunal, nor their intentions. Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I will deal with it."

She passed him, and she noticed that he seemed rather sad. "I- " She hesitated, causing him to glance up in surprise, before adverting her gaze and hurrying into the building, climbing the stairs leading from the underground parking lot into the Prosecutor's Office, leaving the Prosecutor stunned in her wake.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**


	2. Two Small, Sad Smiles

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Two : Two Small, Sad Smiles**

August 22

11 : 45 a.m. – HPO, Outside Tribunal Room 03

"I c-can't thank you e-enough, Chief Prosecutor..." Lana Skye felt as if she could turn around and snap the – _oh, alright_ – wimpy man's neck. _If he apologizes one more time, I swear I – _"Thank you for saving my job...it's all Wright's fault!" _Of course he blames Wright – this man needs a spine transplant._

Winston Payne had never been her favorite Prosecutor to speak with. He was far too cowardly for her liking, and his performance in court was abysmal – "the Rookie Killer" had a knack for losing to the very rookies he supposedly "killed". _Well, not exactly. He seems to lose to rookies who later give even Miles Edgeworth trouble. If Miles met him in court, I might have my work cut out for me._

The tribunal hearing had gone as she had suspected – it was only a stroke of luck that she had arrived in time to save Payne's career. _Had I not held Miles at the traffic sign, Payne would have been terminated._ As it stood, Payne had recieved a suspension from the bar and a severe pay cut. It was justified, in the eyes of those on the tribunal board, considering that the man had called to the stand the actual murderer.

"Chief Prosecutor Skye?" Startled, Lana tore herself away from her thoughts and turned to see Kevin Domovoi – a friend of hers from high school. They had dated back then, but she broke it off after her parents died. Kevin was a wide-shouldered man who could have been an Olympic runner, had he not hurt his knee as a child. He had taken up law in high school – which is how the two met in a debate club.

"Mr. Domovoi." She greeted coldly. She hated to treat her friends as she did, but since the incident two years ago, Lana had changed. She justified it by reminding herself of the SL-9 Incident – but she knew she was wrong. _But it is too late for me. _"How can I help you?

Kevin rose his brows. His chocolate eyes seemed to grow colder than ice. "Happy birthday, Chief Prosecutor. Many happy returns." He then turned on his heel and and disappeared into the tribunal room.

Lana sighed as she climbed the stairs leading to her office. As the Chief Prosecutor, she had recieved the top-most office in the building. She found it rather annoying – having to climb down the stairs each time she needed to speak to someone. Obviously, she had a secretary to call her underlings to her, but she prefered to speak to them on equal ground. _Besides, I think my office scares some of them out of their wits._

She would not doubt that. Her office was bland – another necessary change from the aftermath of the SL- 9 Incident. It was without personal belongings, without her personalitly. Just bland.

_Lana...what has she done? _The memory of that day, of the SL-9 Incident, had burned a hole through her heart. She doubted the gaping wound would ever heal. _Lana...Neil Marshall is dead. And Ema killed him. _She could hear his voice even now_. _Damon. Her friend, her ally, her partner.

_Damon, help me. _Ema could not have killed Neil Marshall that day. And yet, he was dead, and Joe Darke was on the ground. Unconscious from a blow to the back of the head. _Help me conceal this. Ema...Ema could not have killed Neil. _Looking back, she had never begged anyone for anything throughout her life – and yet, there she was, asking Damon Gant to help her conceal evidence of a crime her sister committed. _Help me conceal her guilt._

He had agreed. With his help, she moved the body and, later, gave Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth false evidence, leading to Joe Dark's conviction and eventual death sentence. Damon soon revealed his intention to blackmail her into his schemes to falsify evidence in other cases. Why?She did not know. Perhaps he enjoyed watching her struggle with herself. With what remained of her heart, she struggled.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

August 22

12 :02 p.m. – HPO, Office 009

_"Chief Prosecutor Skye?" He was nervous. The rumors spreading about him – about them, although they had not a shred of evidence or testimony supporting them, created the invasive, impersonal feeling that he could not shake off that morning. He wanted – no, needed, to get rid of it. _

_ "Mr. Edgeworth?" A pause. Her beautiful eyes were cold, fierce. Like a deadly animal. "Is there something you need?" Her words were hurried. _

_ "Have you heard?" About the rumors circling about us._

_ Another pause. "Yes." She motioned for him to walk with her, and he complied willingly enough – being the Chief Prosecutor must be a hectic career for a young woman to handle. Her answer was what she expected, and he was about to apologize – oh, how he wanted to apologize for the inconvienience of those silly rumors – when she spoke again. "__The incident that occured in which a witness, called by Prosecutor Payne, was found to have committed the crime in question, the latter proven by a Mr. Phoenix Wright."_

_ I beg your pardon? That is not what I wanted to – is she purposely avoiding the question? I cannot be the one to tell her about – what did she say about Wright? I have heard about Payne - "...Exactly."_

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth replayed the memory inside of his mind several times, trying to read her emotionless expression, her cold eyes, trying to read the situation from her angle. Had she ignored him because of the rumors, or because she was too concentrated on Prosecutor Winston Payne's costly mistake?

"_Prosecutor Payne was brought before a tribunal hearing, from what a Detective on the case told me this morning. I was hoping to catch you," He said, chancing a glance toward her, "I thought you needed to be told immediately - the tribunal intends to terminate Payne for this mistake." _

He spoke, trying to hold onto the conversation, hoping to find some sort of clue in her eyes. But she had refused to meet him, staring straight ahead in a concentrated glare.

_She acts like a stray, astray in a world where no one quite understands her motives. He was lost in throught as she replied, "I did not know about the tribunal, nor their intentions. Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I will deal with it." Resigned, Miles sighed quietly. He glanced up when the Chief Prosecutor hesitated, "I -" For a moment, Miles feared that she did know of the rumors surrounding them. _

_ And then she walked away without another word._

_ "Women," Miles uttered under his breath, as he watched the Chief Prosecutor disappear up the staircase leading into the Prosecutor's Office, "Always keeping you guessing." _

The rumors surrounding the two were becoming unbearable for him to stand. The last straw, which drove him to confront Lana Skye that morning, was when a certain Detective Dick Gumshoe mentioned the rumor when the two met to exchange information on a case the morning before, inside his office.

_"So, is the dirt true, Pal?" The Detective asked, grinning that trademark, idiotic grin of his. Ignoring the statement, taking a sip of the tea he had ordered from the Gatewater Hotel across the street from the Prosecutor's Office. "Are you and the Chief Prosecutor really dating?"_

_ Miles had nearly spat out his drink. "What? No! No, of course not! Who told you that!" More rumors about him – just what he needed... The Detective seemed to know what he was thinking, for he scratched the back of his head, a chastised expression on his face._

_ "Well...some guys down at the station were talking about you and the Chief Prosecutor over coffee and bread. A passing lunchlady swore she saw you two together somewhere, Pal..." The Detective paused, and then an outraged expression suddenly overrode his face. "You mean that lady was lying to us!"_

But, it seemed his fear of confronting Lana Skye of the rumors were unfounded. Had she known, he doubted very much that he would still have his Prosecutor's badge. _The Chief Prosecutor seems to be that sort of woman, _Miles Edgeworth sighed quietly, _Getting rid of those who get in her way. _

Which is why he avoided her in the first place. _Nothing irks a power-hungry woman more than a rising star within her ranks._

Ever since the SL-9 case, the Detectives who were in charge of the investigation were quietly dismissed (as in the case of Angel Starr) or decomissioned (such as Jake Marshall) or dead (as in the case of Neil Marshall.) Bruce Goodman was the only one out of the lot that had not been touched, perhaps out of caution – if he had been targeted, suspicions would have been raised.

Rumors had it that the Chief Prosecutor had some sort of hold on Chief of Police, Damon Gant.

_Not that suspicons were not raised anyway. Like myself, Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye cannot seem to shake off the shadow of the SL-9 Incident. _For reasons he could not understand, a small, sad smile graced his pale mouth._ There is a connector here, that connects the two of us to that case. Whether it be a personal aspect, a case of forged evidence...there is something neither of us knows about the incident that no one seems to be willing to talk about._

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

August 22

1 : 00 p.m. - Skye Residence

"Fey." Ema Skye loved hearing the greeting Mia Fey gave when she answered her cell phone. It reminded her of her sister. It also comforted her when she was searching for a sense of normal – like now.

Mia Fey had been a friend of Lana's for a long time. They kept in contact even after Mia had graduated from their school, though Lana had stopped speaking to the Defense Attorney almost two years ago, for reasons even Mia did not quite understand.

After her sister drove off, she had rushed down the staircase leading to her bedroom and tore into the kitchen, ripping the kitchen phone (which Lana had told her never to use, unelss in the case of an emergency) from its cradle and called her sister's friend. "It's Ema, Ms. Fey. I – I didn't know who else to call..." She explained the morning's events in detail, hoping that Mia could help her mend her broken relationship with her sister. At times, Mia Fey felt more like her sister than Lana did, though Ema had yet to admit it to herself, to Mia, or to Lana.

_Not that she'd care if I suddenly disappeared and never came back._Ema thought as the pause between herself and Mia grew from seconds to minutes. She seemed to be thinking – which gave Ema some inkling of hope. Maybe Mia would know what to do...

"I don't know what to do." Ema felt like slapping herself for giving herself false hope. "Lana and I were close in our school days, but...that was a while ago." Another pregnant pause. "The Lana I knew would never treat her sister like this. The Lana I knew would have loved the gift you made her. I don't know, Ema."

Ema sighed, feeling as if she would begin to cry again – for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Maybe she hates me," Ema moaned, taking the phone into the living room and sitting heavily down on the couch that lay a few yards in front of the small television set. "Maybe she hates the responsibility that comes with raising a teenager like me. Maybe she blames me for mom and dad - "

"Ema, she doesn't hate you." Mia interrupted with a sigh. Ema heard someone talking in the background. With a word from Mia, whoever it was fell silent. "Listen, my sister, Maya, is here on an extended visit. Would you like to come over and talk to her? I'm sorry to cut the discussion short, but my understudy is getting on my nerves – apparently some detective is getting on his tail about yesterday's trial." Mia sounded weary. Ema did not blame her – lawyers, Defense or Prosecutions, had exausting careers. She was glad she had decided long ago not to follow in her sister's footsteps.

But something Mia mentioned caught her interest. "Chief Gant was talking to my sister about that," She informed the Defense Attorney, "At least, I think so – Lana sounded surprised..." She explained her thoughts about the conversation in scientific detail. Mia sounded rather irritated when she finally spoke.

"Didn't know me, huh? Well, Ema, don't you worry. I'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Now, how about that trip downtown to meet my little sister?"

Ema felt herself smile despite her terrible morning. "That sounds great, Mia!"

"Good. I'll pick you up within the hour – Maya will be happy to see you again - it's been too long since you girls got together, all thanks to your stubborn sister..."

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

August 22

4 : 43 – HPO, Office 001

**Beep, BEEP beep, BEEP beep, beep...**

Unlike Damon Gant's ringtone, for a moment she did not recognize the ringtone that was playing rather obnoxiously, vibrating and whirling upon her desk. She picked it up curiously, and sighed when she realized it was just a text from Ema. She read it, distaste coloring her expression as she did so.

_**Meeting w\Maya hr house. Pick me up later K thanx. Mia says to call her l8er.**_

Her little sister, for all the brilliance she had, was still just a teenager. The text message was littered with errors, grammatical and quick-handed. She sighed deeply as she re-read the message. _She must have called Mia after I left on the kitchen phone. I blocked Mia on her cell phone. _She had hated to do that to both her little sister and her friend, but otherwise, Ema would have called the woman about all of her strange behavior – and she did not need the Defense Attorney in her buisness.

**Beep, BEEP beep, BEEP beep, beep...**

She opened the message, and a sad smile cracked her facade of a calm demeanor.

_**Happy birthday, love you. See you when you pick me up.**_

__She closed the bronze device, still smiling sadly. _Ema never ceases to amaze me. This morning must have torn her apart, but still, she swallowed that to send me this last text. Even after all I have done and said to her these past two years, she still loves me._

__Lana opened her phone again, intent on sending back a message.

_**I love you too. **_Just before she sent the message, she paused. Her instincts were on fire. If she sent this message, Ema would forgive her for the incident this morning, for everything that she had done the past two years. The thought made her smile – but slowly it disappeared. If she sent this message, Lana knew her strength, which had slowly eroded, would break. She bit her lip, deciding against the action and hardening her heart, though she felt as if it would shatter.

She deleted the message that could have healed her sister – and herself. She sent another instead.

_**Stop texting me. I am busy.**_

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**


	3. Answers

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Three: Answers**

August 22

9 : 30 p.m. - Skye Residence

"I'm so sorry." Ema Skye had repeated.

"I wonder if Lana is home yet?" A particularly loud Mia spoke, interrupting Ema as she apologized for what seemed the thousanth time that hour. Lana had not picked up her younger sister from downtown as Ema had instructed her. It had fallen to Mia, who had spent the better part of the afternoon with her student, a Mr. Phoenix Wright, locked away in the study of the Fey residence, to drive the teenager home.

Maya chuckled at her sister as she turned into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Maya looked like her sister in hair and sense of style, but whereas Mia tried to keep her head down and was rather shy, Maya would not mind tearing a book from your hands to get your attentions.

"I doubt it." Ema replied, finally ceasing her constant apologies, as she slipped out of the small, beat-up van that had been in Mia's possession since she had finished school, "Lana rarely comes home before midnight, especially if some big case needs her attention."

"Now, that's no fun," Maya said, tearing up the stairs leading to the apartment belonging to the Skye sisters, "You'd think she'd get bored, being cooped up in that dreary ol' Prosecutors Office."

"You would think so." Mia chuckled as Ema, who had reached the stairs a couple seconds after her enthusiastic little sister, took out a spare key and unlocked the door. They entered and Mia had to sigh at the bare and bland appartment. "You'd also think the highest ranking Prosecutor in the district could afford some decent decorations for her home." Ema flushed, and Mia smiled as Maya laughed.

"She's only teasing. Mia's mean like that," Maya reassured Ema, as Mia threw her an amused smile, "I mean, she used to tease your big sister about being so uptight and boring, it was funny."

"Lana tries, at least," Ema teased back, "You two are like sore thumbs, you stick out everywhere."

"Hey!" Mia exclaimed, her expression one of mock hurt, "You're a sight yourself, you know!"

Ema admitted defeat. Tall for her height, which Lana had once told her she had inherited from their father, coupled with an eccentric love for all things puzzling and scientific, gave her sense of style in need of drastic measures. She was rarely seen out and about without her white laboratory cloak and pink glasses, which could see, with the help of the correct formula, hidden or washed blood-stains. She also had buttons pinned to the hems of her cloak, which only added to the horror that was her personal style.

_So different than Lana. _Mia continued thoughtfully.

Lana was the opposite, which Ema suspected she had taken from their mother. Usually dressed in a formal suit, the color depending on her mood, logical and intelligent, gave her sister the qualities of an excellent Detective. What felt like long ago, before her transfer to the positon of Chief Prosecutor from her career as a successful Detective, Lana had also been kind and generous.

Ema recounted the time Lana had given Mrs. Sparky, a friend of their mother's before their mother died in that terrible vehicle accident just after Lana had turned sixteen, a plane ticket to visit her son, who lived in a different state. Ms. Sparky could not have afforded the ticket on her own, being an old woman on welfare, but Lana had went out of her way to find where her son lived and bought the ticket as a thank-you gift. The delight and shock on the old woman's expression had caused her sister to to laugh.

"What's this?"

Ema, startled, turned towards Mia, who held in her hands a dark green shard of glass. She grimanced, and explained, "That's one of the shards of the birthday gift I made Lana. I guess she didn't have time this morning to pick up the pieces, or just missed that one."

"That I doubt." Muttering something about a certain older Skye, the older Defense Attorney stared around the kitchen for other shards. She found three nested away in the shadows of the kitchen. "Odd..."

"What's odd?" Maya asked curiously, taking a shard from her sister and examining it. This was a slightly larger piece. It looked like a broken piece of burned clay, spray-painted green.

"The Lana I knew would have searched everywhere she could for a safety hazard," Mia replied, her grey eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at the two shards in her hand, as if glaring at them would give her the answers to why her friend had changed so much, "Here or anywhere, she would have done her best to make sure she had cleaned up something so potentially dangerous..."

_ "Lana?" Mia had found the woman, no, she was not much older than she was, but the woman had seen so much hardship since the deaths of her parents, calling her a "girl" seemed so unfitting..._

_ Anyway, Mia had found Lana kneeling at the side of a bench, carefully wiping wet, muddy footprints from the marble floor of their classroom with a dark, lumpy towel. "What are you doing?"_

_ "Someone might trip." Lana responded, standing up with a smile, having finished her duty._

_ "Old Huerta got it out for you, then?" She asked, under the impression that their Human Behavior professor, Huerta, had talked her into wiping up the mess for him. "Lazy old..." Lana shook her head._

_ "No," She said simply, "Someone might trip." She shrugged on her dark coat, which was smeared with dirt stains, and disappeared into the mist and rain of the winter day. As she left, Mia realized that there had been no towel – Lana had used her own coat to wipe the mess of another student, to make sure no one "tripped" inside the classroom and possibly injured themselves._

That had been the day that Lana Skye had earned her respect. Sure, the woman had earned her friendship and trust soon after they met, but Lana had always been a bit cool towards others, until she had warmed from the coldness of the deaths of her parents, even towards Mia herself.

The simple act of using her own coat to wipe up dirt and water so that others could not "trip" and hurt themselves proved that Lana was not so cold as she would have anyone believe.

And yet...

"What did you make her, anyway?" Maya finally asked, breaking the silence between Ema and her older sister. "Some kind of coffee mug?" The teenager was staring into the rubbish bin as Mia placed the green, broken piece of hand-tossed clay into it. Ema smiled sadly.

"I made her a _Queen of the Prosecutors_ trophy. I thought she'd put it in her office." She shrugged, avoiding the gaze of both Fey sisters. "It doesn't matter now, it's broken."

"That's not all that's been broken." Maya observed quietly.

"No," Ema agreed, "It's not."

_I wonder if Lana realizes the pain she has caused her sister. _Mia thought to herself, watching her sister and Ema slowly bring the conversation back to pleasant things.

Something inside Mia told her that Lana did.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

August 23

10 : 58 a.m. - Skye Residence

Lana Skye was noted for her punctuality – that is, known for arriving to meetings, gatherings, and other such things _on time. _Today however, the day after her twenty-nineth birthday, she was late. Very late, as the fact is. For the very first time since becoming a Detective for the San Diego Law Enforcement Offices, and since her transition to Chief Prosecutor, Lana Skye was late.

And that did not suit her at all.

The night before, she returned to her apartment at 5 a.m., after working through the night. She had found her sister asleep on the couch, apparently having stayed up all night waiting for her to return, only adding to the immense guilt Lana felt already. Making sure her younger sister was deeply asleep, she carried her into her room up the stairs and placed her onto her bed. She watched Ema sleep for just a moment, before slipping the curtains closed to allow her sister rest without the light of the sun interrupting.

Then she quietly left the room and to her own, promptly deciding to rest for an hour or two before heading back to the office...

...Which is how she found herself nearly three hours late that morning, with three missing calls from two different people – two from her secretary and one from Chief of Police Damon Gant. Her secretary, under the impression that Lana and Damon were still very good friends (as was the impression Damon and Lana put into the public so his blackmail and their forgeries would not be discovered) would call Damon if she felt something was wrong with the Chief Prosecutor.

Just another lie that benifited Damon Gant.

"Chief of Police Damon Ga – oh, Lana!" His voice went from annoyingly formal to irritatingly casual as he spoke to her. "I've been wondering where you went off to! Your secretary called me this morning, all in a sort because no one could get a hold of you! Just what do you think you're doing? Giving the the public a bad image of our Chief Prosecutor! Some people might think you're up to something."

Lana froze, in the rather odd position of throwing things into the brown briefcase she carried to and from the Prosecutors Office. At the moment, she carried a bundle of papers. She chose her words carefully. "I apologize, Chief Gant. I worked myself too early into the morning, finishing the file for the Payne trial. It should be arriving to you soon."

"It's already here, Lana. Like you should be." His voice had turned again – from irritatingly casual to the threatening voice he reserved just for her. "I need your assistance." For a brief moment, Lana considered replying the negative. She considered, as she ocassionally did, to allow Damon Gant to incriminate her sister of the murder of Neil Marshall. To free herself of the burden of falsifying evidence. Of the terrible guilt that weighed her down, day after day, week after week, year after year, since the moment she asked for the help of Damon Gant in falsifying evidence of her own.

A pause.

"If I refuse?"

Damon did not give her a response. Perhaps Lana had surprised him – but somehow, his silence spoke volumes – the evidence against Ema in a murder Lana knew that had been committed by accident. The evidence of a crime committed two years ago.

It was the only answer she needed.

"I will be inside your office within the hour."

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**


	4. All Those Silly Rumors

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Four : All Those Silly Rumors**

August 24

2 : 36 p.m. - HPO Office 001

Miles Edgeworth hated rumors. He knew how much pain and confusion they could cause, by personal, annectdodal, and fictional experiences alike.

But for some reason, this rumor bothered him more than another other. More than his suspected corruption, more so than the rumor running like a mouse through his mind, whispering into his consciousness of a single, terrifying moment of his life, years and years before. This rumor was, in his eyes, disgusting, vile, and Miles rejected it with every fiber of his being.

And for the life of him, he could not explain to himself _why _he was so disgusted.

Perhaps it was just the woman herself. He had met the woman during his very first trial, and had thought her a brilliant Detective and a kind and lovely woman besides.

But as the seasons, she had chanaged. After her sudden transfer to the Prosecutor's Office and had been instated as Chief Prosecutor, Lana had become colder than ice and more distant than planet Pluto from glowing Sun. He had heard rumors of the woman, some petty, but many more with merit, from corruption to forgery. Rumor had it that Lana had some sort of hold on Chief of Police Damon Gant.

"Or perhaps," The famed prosecutor said thoughtfully, "It has less to do with her and more to do with my personal embarrassment at being roped into her rumors."

For, unlike a certain Detective's uncanny ability to ignore (or be completely oblivious to) lies and rumors whispered about him, Miles could not ignore the crude remarks about he and the Chief Prosecutor.

They were driving him to the brink of insanity.

And it was that every insanity that had led him to the outside of Office 001. The number forced Miles to blink, to resist the temptation of rolling his eyes. Temptation sucessfully resisted, Miles knocked on the door leading into her office, stepping back and waiting for an answer. He estimated that he waited perhaps four to seven minutes before sighing and uttering a low, explenative, frustration glinting in his sharp, grey eyes. "Perhaps," He murmured, "I should leave now and file an official request - "

"Ah!" He had turned around quickly and gasped, having knocked into someone in the otherwise empty hallway. His ears picked up a quiet, feminine gasp of surprise. With little surprise himself, he steadied himself and raised head and looked into the frosty eyes of Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye.

She, however, was surprised to see him. He could sense it in her greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Edgeworth," She said, her expression kept carefully neutral, "Is there something you needed?"

"Yes," He replied, "A moment of your time?" _Too late to turn back now,_ He thought to himself, as he added quickly, "Privately?" Her eyebrows arched. But without a word, she took out her badge and unlocked the electronic door. She opened the door and lead him inside. Appraising the very plain, almost boring office, he said, half-jokingly and half-seriously, "Interesting choice of decoration, Prosecutor Skye."

"Indeed." Her voice was like sharp ice. Her back was turned to him. "No frills here, Mr. Edgeworth." Slowly, she turned around and sat in her chair behind her long, plain wood desk. No photographs or personal effects littered the top, and the bookshelves were lined with well-read and well-known law books.

Subconsiously, Miles felt at the "frill" (his white cravat) worn at his neck as he took a seat in front of her desk. He cleared his throat quietly.

"Thank you," He ventured, "For meeting with me on such short notice, Ms. Skye." She shifted in her seat, crossing her fingers together. She said nothing, giving him a slight nod - permission to continue. Taking a deep breath, Miles continued haltingly, "I wanted to talk to you about a certain rumor..."

As Miles explained the rumor and his thoughts and feelings on the subject, he could tell that the Chief Prosecutor was not at all surprised with what he was telling her. In fact, she nodded occassionally and, oddly enough, narrowed her eyes and frowned, having seemed to recognize the descrition of the lunchlady Detective Dick Gumshoe had given him at his request.

After the end of his narrative, Lana folded her hands together on top of her desk and closed her eyes briefly. The moment seemed to strech for minutes as Miles glanced over her, noticing her to be tired. Her shoulders, though straight, were sagged and her back seemed crooked with some unknown weight. Her eyes, cold as they were, held some irreversable sadness, he noticed, as she opened them. They were tired, but the Chief Prosecutor held no sign of sleep deprivation. _How strange..._

"Mr. Edgeworth," She said, his attention returning to her as she spoke, "I apologize for the lack of disipline inside the Prosecutor's Office and inside outside offices. However, I would remind you that I do not have the power or authority to hush such troublesome rumors, and from what you have told me in your explaination, trying to silence them would only worsen the situation."

Angry grey eyes met calm brown eyes. "What, then," Miles asked in a restrained voice, "Do you suppose I do to silence them?"

"I suggest we do absolutely nothing."

Miles balked, spluttering, "W-what? Nothing!"

A sigh escaped from her and her eyes closed once more. Again, Miles was struck by the exaustion in her breaths. She opened them, and still they were rather sad, though hidden with a frigid eye. She replied quietly, "Absolutely nothing can be done, Mr. Edgeworth. A rumor is like a wildfire - it will burn itself out, eventually. But until then, any help would merely worsen - "

"Does this rumor not bother you, Chief Prosecutor?" He snapped. Lana did not seem surprised by his outburst, though she arched a critical brow.

"If other, more sensitive rumors about me were not as pressing as they are, I would be. Unfortunately, they are." Miles blinked in surprise. _How did she know about...? _As if she read his thoughts, Lana smiled sardonically. "I have ears, too, Mr. Edgeworth. In fact," She slid her chair from her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a paper and sliding it to him. "Everyone does."

He scanned the file. A few moments later, he lay it gingerly on the desk before him. "A probational letter," He ground out.

"Indeed. I know as your superior that you have not recieved one in your career, Mr. Edgeworth."

"No, I haven't."

"Do you think that you will, given this rumor?" At the question, Miles looked away, shame flickering in his eyes and his expression, feeling as if he were being chastised by his mentor again. It was a painful feeling. His wrists smarted and stung as if he had been hit with another wooden ruler.

"No." He murmured, "I don't."

"It is just a silly rumor, Mr. Edgeworth." His head snapped up. The Chief Prosecutor's cold eyes had suddenly defrosted, revealing the warmth in them. The shame that had attacked him moments before was burned and slowly died away. A small, almost unseeable smile had lit them. Lana repeated softly, "It is just a silly rumor. Ignore it - like you would bullies on the playground."

Miles could not help but mile. "A playground?"

"My little sister," Lana explained, "Has had troubles with bullies since she was a little girl. I gave you the same instructions, or rather, the same advice, as Ema. The same theroy will work in both the school yard and workplace, if applied correctly."

"Everyone except you." The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. Lana rose a thin, sharp brow. Miles tried to apologize, "I apolo - "

The Chief Prosecutor interrupted him, "No, no." He blinked in surprise as she continued, "There are exceptions to every rule." Miles said nothing, prompting her to continue, "Politics are a dangerous game, Mr. Edgeworth," She advised him wisely, "Rumors are karma, if you will, for deeds well done and deeds done immorally alike. No politician, lawyers included, is safe from the fact."

"But you haven't - "

"You cannot be too sure." Miles froze for just a moment, his grey eyes meeting hers. Hers were a combination of pain, long concealed, and a strange guilt he could not put his finger on. Lastly, he saw truth. But the truth, he knew, from his experiences inside and outside the courtroom, could be decieving.

"Rumors," Miles replied quietly, smiling very slightly, "Are silly things."

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

**Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye**

**Due to the severity of the rumor(s) surrounding your recent activities, we of the Board of Prosecutors voted ****five FOR and one AGAINST**** the action of ****PROBATION****.**

**PROBATION**** entails the suspensions of various privlages and the strict observation and inversigation into the rumors and into the person of which the rumor(s) are centered. Until this investigation ends, those under investigation are expected to retain the expected decorum and respect befitting the Board of Prosecutors and that befitting a Prosecutor. They are expected to behave accordingly and help with the proceeding investigation and cooperate with our investigators.**

**The Board of Prosecutor's power, however, is limited. Because of your rank of ****CHIEF PROSECUTOR****, your rights are protected by law and my mrality of the public. Please be aware of your probational status and act accordingly, but also be aware that your status will prevent any actions or charges being filed against you until evidence, statements or confessions are made by the accused or those involved step forward regarding these rumors.**

**Until such time, you are reminded that your movements will be watched and recorded until such time that the rumor(s) are either proved false or true, you are expected to remain diligent in your work and anything will be used against you in a court of law.**

**You are also reminded that the Board of Prosecutors have the right to declare you inactive at any day or time and you have the right to be notified of any and all changes regarding your investigation. You also have the right to remain silent when and if you are questioned by officials of our investigation due to your status as ****CHIEF PROSECUTOR****.**

**Signed,**

**Chairman Demitry Roycewitch**

**Vice Chairman Felicia Chavez**

**Senior Presecutor Kevin Domovoi**

**Junior Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth**

**Prosecutor Winston Payne**

**Prosecutor Cole Pipes**

Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye sighed as she re-read her probational warning for what seemed the thousanth time that day. She had recieved it that morning, by one Chief of Police Damon Gant, who had been given the paper as Chief of Police of the District. He had not been pleased by the event, and had threatened Lana during her stay in his office the morning before.

_"You're slipping, Lana." He had told her darkly. At the time, Lana was carefully recreating a document in difficult, hand-crafted lettering he wanted, in order to assure a Prosecutor would win a certain trial in the coming weeks. "You need to be more careful," He threatened, his eyes menacing in an expression he seemed to keep just for the Chief Prosecutor, "Or I could find myself remembering a certain incident... in which your sister, I believe, killed Prosecutor Neil Marshall."_

_ His threat sent an icy shiver down her spine. Whatever the consequenses, whatever the pain afterward, to have Ema endure the sentense of a murder Lana knew to have been an accident was unberable. Damon, her one-time ally, partner, her friend - exploited the fact and, to add insult to injury, blackmailed her into the very corruption she had studied and fought against._

_ "I understand," Lana had said to him softly, hiding her eyes behind a mask of indifference, "I will not make any more mistakes, Chief Gant."_

_ "Good."_

_ For hours she worked on the forgery, and when she finished, she slowly placed the pen down, staring for a long while at the completed document. Damon, having somehow known her to be finished, had appeared behind her, his gloved hand placed on her shoulder. His touch caused her body to tense tightly. His touch caused her to shiver._

_ She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke, his gloved hands making a mocking, patting movement. "Give that document to Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth." He commanded._

_ "Yes, Chief Gant." She replied without emotion. "It will be done." She turned to leave._

_ "Oh, and Lana?" She paused but did not turn around. Damon took her shoulders, not too roughly, but not gently, "Address me again as you did this morning, and you will find your sister arrested and behind bars before you can open your little mouth to apologize."_

_ Lana glanced back, her eyes colder than ice. Her expression would have frightened the dead from their graves, cowering in fright. Damon merely rose a threatening brow. She smiled without feeling. "I understand, Chief Gant."_

_ She had turned away, his mocking chuckles and murmur of, "Very good, Lana" mere insults to the injuries he had dealt, and would continue to deal._

Shortly before Miles Edgeworth had left her office after the talk, she had given him the forged document. He had taken it without a second thought, thanking her for her help. She had smiled in what she had hoped was a convincing way and he had excused himself from her office, looking considerably less grim than when he had arrived.

_Frankly_, She had thought as he disappeared from her sight, _It was a miracle that I had been able to make eye contact with Miles and make pleasant conversation with him, knowing I was responsible for his supposed corruption. _

Slowly recovering herself, she retrieved a key from her pocket and unlocked a drawer in her desk. Opening it, she found comfort in a small assortment of items, which included a picture of herself and Ema, smiling, arm-in-arm in front of the Prosecutor's Office, a small photo of her mother and father on their wedding day, and a very small black notebook.

It was the notebook she withdrew.

Without the knowlege of Damon, she had kept a tally of just how many forgries she had committed at his command. She kept records - all in the false hope that one day, these cases could be reviewed once his hold on her was released. She also tallied the number of times she gave one of her specific Prosecutors forged evidence. "The tallies stood now at a total of thirty." She murmured, adding a small mark next to the name bearing her latest victim.

Miles Edgeworth - 10 Kevin Domovoi - 7

Winston Payne - 5 Felicia Chavez - 3

Cole Pipes - 4 Demitri Roycewitch - 1

A shrill ring cut through her thoughts.

**BING BING, bing BING, bing bing bing...**

Lana did not recognize the ring. She picked up the cell phone and red "RESTRICTED NUMBER CALLING" on the identification tab. She rose her brow, and answered, mostly out of curiousity. "Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye." As soon as she heard the voice on the other side of the line, Lana instantly regretted her curiousity.

"Lana? Oh! It's Mia!" Mentally, Lana cursed herself. "I wasn't expecting you to answer!"

_And I am a fool to have answered. _Without preamble, Lana asked coldly, "What do you want, Fey?" Her voice was distant. Practiced for situations exactly like this one. A pause. Lana knew the woman who had once been her best friend was shocked, both by her rudeness and her tone of voice.

"Other," Mia finally replied. "I need to talk to you about - "

"Need," Lana interrupted sharply, "Or want?"

Mia shouted, "Ema!" The name caused Lana to flinch. "I need to talk to you about Ema! Or are you too busy to talk to me about my concerns about your only family?" Lana sighed. "Listen, Lana," Mia continued, ignoring her, "Whatever your problem is, stop taking it out on Ema." Lana opened her outh to protest, but Mia did not give her the chance, rapidly continuing, "Your secret. I don't know what it is," Lana had frozen, imittating a deer in the headlights of a truck, "But it is tearing you and Ema apart."

_Yes,_ Lana wanted to shout, _I know! I see it! _Instead, she began, "I do not know what you are - "

"You're lying to me, Lana!" Mia exclaimed furiously, "I've known you for ears and years. The fact you're so cold, distant, and the fact you're talking so stiffly and formally to me gives it all away!"

"Good bye, Fey," Lana replied, "Do not call this number - "

"Lana, please!" Mia pleaded, "I don't believe the rumors, okay? If that is the cause of all this, I don't believe all those rumors! I know you and that stuck-up Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth aren't dating - "

_Your description of Edgeworth says otherwise, _Lana thought, rolling her eyes as she continued harshly, as if Mia had not spoken, "Again. I cannot stop you from calling and speaking to Ema, but consider any all all connection between you and I is - "

"I know that the Chief of Police, Damon Gant, is not under your - "

_The rumor that placed me under probation is the rumor that is the opposite of the truth, _Lana mentally sighed, before saying, "Finished." Lana snapped the cell phone closed.

_All those damn, silly rumors will be the death of me._


	5. As Glass Cuts, A Ruler Bruises

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Five** : As Glass Cuts, A Ruler Bruises

**October 16**

**9 : 30 a.m. - Prosecutor's Lobby : CR 4**

"Thirty minutes 'til showtime, pal!" Detective Dick Gumshoe was known as a broad-shouldered and wildly eccentric man with bad luck regarding his monthly salary. He was lesser known as a friend of Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. The two were standing in the Prosecutor's Lobby, making last-minute adjustments to their case and arranging their evidence. Miles closed the briefcase containing these documents. Dick knew the Prosecutor would win his case - he always did.

"Indeed," Miles agreed. He had been quiet since the case had begun to be investigated - since his opponent, Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright, student of Mia Fey, was announced.

"That Wright guy ain't got nothing on you, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Dick said, trying to give Miles a confidence booster that he believed his friend needed. Miles sighed, crossing his arms and tapping his finger to his magenta coat. The movements gave him a superior demeanor - but he personally knew that it was a nervous tick that he had picked up over the course of his studies. Dick grinned.

"Of course." Miles said, not really feeling the confidence he pretended to have. "Cut and dry case."

A voice behind Miles replied, "I would not be too sure, Mr. Edgeworth." Both Miles and Dick spun around to see Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye. She wore her usual, professional suit and a long red muffler was more or less tied to her neck. Her eyes were expressionless as she spoke again, "I have overlooked this case myself, it seems a rather interesting one. I would not place bets, Mr. Edgeworth, Mr. Gumshoe, until the rhetorical lady has sung."

"I understand, Ms. Skye." Miles said, trying, if anything, to placate her. "Good morning. I hope you are well?" The Chief Prosecutor opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the over-eager Detective standing next to Miles.

"Oh! Hello, Chief Prosecutor Skye! Perfect day for a trial, huh, pal!"

With a raised brow, Lana answered coolly, "Unless, of course, you are the Defendant." Dick grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Now, Mr. Edgeworth...I have a bit of advice for you..."

How different. Miles reflected thoughtfully, How different than when she and I spoke in private weeks ago. So deep were his thoughts, that when she spoke again, he missed most of what she was saying. "The arguments...Defense... based on... Powers... asleep... Prosecution... suit in which... victim... recognize the others argument... interesting... Mr. Edgeworth."

Miles blinked once, snapping out of his thoughts at her last word. She rose her brows, oblivious to the fact he had heard only heard about half of her advice, and expecting a reply. He smiled confidently and bowed. "Of course, Ms. Skye. I will bear that in mind in today's trial."

With a nod, the Chief Prosecutor turned on her heel and disappeared into the courtroom, which was slowly beginning to fill with audience members, the jury, and the judge himself. Miles took a deep breath, watching as an audience member struck up a conversation with her.

"Fifteen minutes 'til showtime, pal!" Dick said, oblivious to his - Fascination? No, no. Just an interest- wait, what?- with the woman. The audience member seemed to be angry with her, but Lana stood her ground. Finally, the man threw up his arms and walked away, leaving a rather disagreeable Chief Prosecutor shaking her head. Miles watched on. Okay, Miles thought, Fascination.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

**October 20**

**6 : 19 a.m. - Skye Residence**

Lana Skye awoke with the what felt like a woodpecker pecking at the sides of her temples with its sharp beak. Just three hours before, she had tumbled into bed after reading and signing dozens of sheets of paperwork regarding one of the best Prosecutors under her - Miles Edgeworth, who had, the afternoon before, lost his very first trial to the subordinate of Mia Fey; Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright.

After a short conversation with Miles about this trial, in which she had found that he had, in fact, known this Mr. Wright before his becoming a Prosecutor, however long ago, she had informed Damon Gant of the predicament, expecting anger, threats - something of the sort.

But again, the legendary Detective and Chief of Police had surprised her.

Damon laughed though the device, causing a tense Lana to flinch, the startled Chief Prosecutor later swearing quietly that she had heard a strange clapping sound during this time, "Little Worthy lost, eh? 'Bout time! I was beginning to think the boy was invincible!"

"I beg your pardon?" Lana rose her brows, regaining herself just in time to reply.

"Well, we certainly didn't set this up, did we?" Damon replied, causing Lana to pause. Before she could reply, he continued, "That Mr. Wright is quite the Rookie. Beating Payne and Edgeworth like he did! I guess we'll have to do something about him, won't we?"

"I do not think Mr. Wright is quite the threat yet, Chief. Perhaps the boy is merely sailing though with his beginner's luck." She had replied. After a long, thoughtful pause, Damon had agreed.

After a terse excuse, Lana had retired, closing her cell phone without a good-bye.

Sighing tiredly, the Chief Prosecutor left the warm comfort of her bed and cleaned up, preparing for just another day, pausing with a bit of shock when she caught sight of her reflection in her mirror.

She hardly recognized the woman she had become since the DL-9 Incident, and her reflection merely proved her point. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and those stern, dark eyes of hers hid what felt like a mountain of unfeeling and tossed-away emotions. Lana knew from experience that these emotions had a habit of bottling themselves up deep somewhere inside of her, and then bursting out in unexpected, usually disastrous ways

On the same drawer on which the mirror was mounted, there also lay a picture frame, containing a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Skye. Surrounded by snow and trees, the two held each other and a four year old Ema. A teenaged Lana stood beside her mother. All four were grinning at the camera, which was being held by a kindly elder man at the insistence of Mrs. Skye. The photograph was her personal favorite.

The photograph had been taken just a month before the accident.

Lana suddenly had the impulse to smile, though she held it back, denying herself even a private luxury, feeling as if she did not deserve it. The photograph, a personal favorite, had never failed to make her smile- until today. Lana wondered, as she grasped her briefcase, which had been a gift from a friend after her acceptance into college, just what her late parents would say to her if they could.

Leaving her bedroom, she entered the kitchen to find Ema already sitting there, eating a sugary cereal for breakfast. As she walked past the table, Ema threw her a glare Lana suspected her sister did not think she saw. Ignoring it, she pulled the spare apartment key from its proper place on the top of the microwave, and turned back to face her younger sister.

"Ema," Lana said, causing Ema to look up from her breakfast in surprise, "After several years, I have to remind you of this, but perhaps your memory has failed you. So, yet again, I must remind you that the spare key is to remain either inside the school office or in your pocket at all times."

This was a speech she gave to her sister each time she found it in a place where it was not supposed to be. This time, it had carelessly been left at a friend's house. It had been returned several days ago by a concerned mother, who had remarked, unaware of the wounds she had re-opened, that Ema's behavior was natural for a single parent.

Ema rolled her eyes, trying to hide the flash of disappointment in them, though Lana caught it anyway. Continuing as though she had not, Lana said, "I believe this time around it was left at the house of a friend. I am disappointed in you, Ema. Do not let it happen again, or-"

Another flash in her sister's eyes caught her attention, though this time it was of fury and not disappointment. "Or what?" Ema interrupted her sister, knocking over her glass of orange juice as she stood up. "Or what, you'll send me to my room? Ground me? You're not my mom, Lana!"

Lana froze, having momentarily turned to take out a cloth to wipe the spill. Silence screamed. Ema crossed her arms, waiting for her sister's reaction.

Disappointing her sister once again, Lana tossed the cloth and several more to her sister. Surprised, Ema caught several of them. "Clean up the orange juice, Ema. We will talk about this tonight. Come straight home after school; you have earned that much, at the very least."

Lana turned away, taking her keys, held together with a 'Blue Badger' key-chain, which had been given to her as a gift by a certain Detective just before the SL-9 Incident. Personally, she found the Police Force mascot to be a tad cute (its strange dance notwithstanding) though she would never admit that to anyone.

Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard something fly through the air. Acting on pure instinct, she turned slightly and braced herself. Lana was rewarded by a loud gasp and a sharp pain in her shoulder. Caught completely unaware, she stumbled backward into the door, holding her shoulder, which seemed to have been cut by the shattered glass now scattered around her feet.

The remains of a glass, and Lana caught the faint scent of orange juice. Her eyes shot open in, more in surprise than anger, as she she realized what had just happened. She rose her gaze to meet her sister, who stood, anger and pain in her eyes. Ema spoke quietly.

"I hate you."

Silence.

Lana closed her eyes, hiding her true emotions in check. Lifting her hand from her shoulder, she saw her hand was stained in red. Fighting back some form of mild anger, Lana found herself suddenly unable to feel; truly numb.

Her eyes opened again. "Clean up the glass, Ema." Lana ordered. Her voice, which she usually kept neutral, was now full of cold authority that she rarely used outside of the Prosecutor's Office. Unused to the change, likely frightened of it, Lana watched as Ema nodded slowly, eyes downcast. "I do not believe a talk tonight is necessary. Remember what I told you about the key and do not be late to school."

Lana turned on her heel, opened the door, and disappeared, leaving a stunned Ema in her wake.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**

**October 20,**

**6 : 45 a.m - HPO Office 009**

"Die Schande! Haben Sie keine Ehre, Edgeworth? Zweimal das gleiche Kind Anwalt besiegt! Zu denken, solche Flecken wird für immer belasten die von Karma Namen! Zu denken, Vater noch können Sie den Titel ..."

Not for the first time, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth found himself being chastised by German Prosecutor Franziska von Karma, who was several years younger than him. A Prosecutor at thirteen and the daughter of the genius Manfred von Karma (his mentor and adoptive father in the ways of Prosecuting "perfectly") she was thought by the world to be following in the footsteps of her father- but occasionally, Miles thought it something more than that.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Miles answered his half-sister, not in English but in German, the native tongue of his adoptive family. "Ich glaube, Mr. Wright gewann beide Studien recht, Franziska. Wie bei unserem Vater, habe ich dankte ihm immer und immer wieder für seine Gnade zu meiner Schwächen, ich glaube nicht, dass nichts mehr getan werden kann. Ein Verlust ist ein Verlust, Franziska, obwohl ich bezweifle, würden Sie das verstehen."

"Dummerweise dumme Narr! Es geht nicht um die Verluste! Vater kann dir vergeben haben, aber er war und ist immer noch, in einer schrecklichen Wut! ... wie dumm dumm, wie du bist, Edgeworth," Her voice was suddenly quiet, as though she were afraid to be overheard, "Ich will nicht, Sie zu sehen beraubt unserem Namen, Bruder. Beenden Sie die Einnahme Fällen, wenn Sie zu haben. Vater wird sehr enttäuscht sein, wenn Sie noch einmal, besonders zu diesem töricht dummen Narren Wright scheitern."

Miles allowed himself a small smile. Despite her cool exterior and attitude toward him, he knew that Franziska truly did care about him. He knew if he ever mentioned this, she would likely lash him to death with the ridding crop she carried around with her. He said, meeting her quiet voice even though he was in the safety of his office.

"Ich werde Ihren Rat zu Herzen, Franziska nehmen, obwohl Sie erkennen müssen, dass es viel schwieriger sein zu tun, als zu sagen. Dinge hier in Amerika sind noch nie so einfach, wie sie in Deutschland sind, sehen Sie."

"Dummerweise dumme Amerikaner." He heard Franziska mutter under her breath. After a few moments of silence, Fransizka sighed quietly and spoke again, still softer.

"Sie müssen sehr vorsichtig sein, Edgeworth. Vater ist sehr wütend, obwohl von dem, was Sie gesagt haben, es scheint er zeigt es nicht nach außen, wenn er mit dir spricht. Aber ich bin hier in Deutschland mit ihm, und er zu sein scheint -" Franziska broke off suddenly, and Miles knew that his adoptive father must have came across his sister, wherever she had chosen to take the call, and confronted her. However, she had not ended their call, and so he heard the following argument.

He heard his adoptive father, Manfred von Karma, speak angrily, as though he already knew who Franziska was speaking to. "Franziska, Tochter, wer bist du zu sprechen?"

"Vater, ich auf einem Client zu sprechen." She lied smoothly. Miles blinked in surprise, more at her tone than what Franziska had said. Her voice was confident, and although he obviously knew she was lying, he knew he would have been fooled had he not. She added, likely realizing Miles was hearing every word, "Dummerweise dumme Narr, vorsichtiger sein! Sie könnte in Gefahr sein, und ich kann dir nicht helfen, wenn Sie auf diese Weise zu handeln, fortsetzen."

The warning rung in his ears, and while he was grateful for her warnings, he knew Franziska risked a lot by doing so- more so, in fact, than he risked, having lost two trials, staining the von Karma name.

His heart must have paused when Manfred spoke again. "Ich glaube dir nicht. Gib mir das Telefon, Franziska."

"Vater-" Before Franziska could speak to avoid placing Miles (and herself) in a even larger predicament, Manfred seemed to swipe the phone away from her hands and, from her surprised shout, Miles hypothesized he also pushed her away.

"Edgeworth," He barked into the receiver, "Was ist der Sinn dieser, kontaktieren Franziska so? Haben Sie nicht gefärbt ihren Namen genug, nur indem er sie denkt?"

"Ich wollte nicht respektlos, Vater." Miles replied, closing his eyes briefly in frustration. He hid it very well, especially these days, but calling Manfred von Karma 'father' caused Miles great pain and heavy discomfort. However, to placate him and to try and lessen his anger toward Franziska, he knew the title was a must. "Ich brauchte Beratung für meine aktuelle Situation in Amerika, und ich glaubte, Franziska konnte, dass für mich geben. Ich rief sie an, und sie entschuldigt haben, wenn wir wieder zu sprechen."

Miles grimanced when his adoptive father boomed out his reply. "Ihre Situation in Amerika ist hoffnungslos! Sie werden nicht ziehen meine Tochter sich mit, wenn Sie fallen! Ich werde es nicht zulassen! Sie haben uns im Stich gelassen, und Ihr presense und demütig Namen wird nicht mehr toleriert werden! Sie werden nicht an Franziska wieder! Verstehst du?"

"Ich verstehe, Vater. Allerdings frage ich ein letztes Wort mit Franziska. Drei Minuten, das ist alles was ich verlange."

Miles heard his adoptive father mutter a disgusted curse and, moments later, Franziska, uttered a tired, "You wanted to speak with me?" She did not bother with German, and Miles suspected it to be a quiet disregard to her father, who demanded the two speak German in his house. In the background, he heard what he believed to be a door slamming shut.

"I am sorry, Franziska." He sighed, privately relieved he could speak in English again, "I have just made day-to-day life with your father a bit more unpleasant for you."

Franziska also sighed. "No, you have not. Life had already been unpleasant here; I have merely added oil to the fire. He has been in a terrible mood, even before you began your losing streak. It seems you are not the only foolishly foolish fool to foolishly irritate my father these days."

"You do enjoy that word, don't you?" Miles asked with a flicker of amusement. He was rewarded by a very soft laugh.

When she spoke again, it was much more quiet, and a peculiar sadness laced every word. "I must apologize, too. I obviously overheard what he told you. I should not have called you."

"I'm glad you did." Miles replied. Franziska sighed again. He heard Manfred shouting in the background, and several loud knocks on wood. He hypothesized her father was knocking on her bedroom door in impatience.

"It is time for the noon lessons." She informed him. Miles felt his wrists prickle as if he has been hit with another wooden ruler, as he had many more times than he could count while under the teachings of his mentor and adoptive father. He knew, while he was enduring public eyes and the humiliation of loss, she was likely enduring the same eyes and many rulers.

"I'm sorry, Franziska." He apologized yet again, though with completely different reason. He knew that, behind the facade, the mask she hid behind, she was not her father and never would be. He spoke again, speaking in German, offering her the single comfort he could give her. "Ich bin für immer dein Bruder."

After a long pause, she murmured, "Als ich für immer deine Schwester bin, verdammt sein welchen Namen wir unter sind." He heard Manfred call her name, and after a final goodbye, she ended the call.

With a long sigh, he closed his cell phone and stood from his desk, turning around and facing the window. Staring aimlessly at the Gatewater Hotel just across the street, he came to accept Franziska's advice and decided not to take any more cases until he felt ready to take them.

Crossing his arms, he watched as a familiar blue truck entered the parking garage below him. He watched it disappear, he turned away quickly, frustrated, accidentally knocking a picture frame as he went. It fell, though without shattering, a fact Miles was grateful for, for the photograph contained inside was his personal favorite.

It pictured Defense Attorney Gregory Edgeworth, standing, a briefcase in hand, on the marble staircase leading into the District Courthouse. He was smiling a confident smile, his grey eyes, which Miles had inherited, illuminated by the sunlight. Miles was standing tall by his father, but instead of wearing his trademark found, this very young Miles was smiling up at the camera. His father's arm was around his shoulder Gregory beamed proudly at the camera.

He died just a month before this photograph was taken.

Miles placed the picture back on the windowsill, frowning.

**:: -Grey Skyes- ::**


	6. All Who Have Left Us Behind

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Six : **All Who Have Left Us Behind

**December 20**

**10 : 08 A.M. - HPO Main Lobby**

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth entered the High Prosecutor's Office to find a crowd of whispering people just inside. Surprised at the congregation and curious to see why so many had gathered, he pushed his way, gently at times, more forcefully at others, to the front, almost expecting to find an unsightly scene of a sick man, or the scene of a grisly crime committed.

What he found was worse than whatever his wild imagination could think up.

German Prosecutor Manfred von Karma stood in the perfect center of that crowd, his arms crossed and an expression Miles knew very well; one of absolute impatience; though a clear disgust also colored his dark eyes as he beheld his opponent; who, Miles realized with a jolt, was none other than Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye.

If Manfred von Karma's expression was one of perfect impatience, hers was one of fhe perfect opposite; calm, cool- if not a bit cold- patience, with just a slight, dangerous flicker of anger in her eyes. She stood just a few feet away from the legendary German Prosecutor.

The two seemed to be locked in a battle of wits. The sheer force of their glares sent a cold shiver down his spine. Around him, the crowd that had gathered surely felt as he did, murmuring restlessly.

"The Chief isn't about to let that Prosecutor take control of this office."

"Have you even heard of von Karma? He's never lost a case in his entire career!"

"I've heard of him, all right; been told that he's the coldest and meanest man to ever foul the Earth..."

"I wonder why he's in this dump- isn't he some famous Prosecutor from Germany?"

Neither Manfred or Lana moved or blinked in the midst of these murmurs. For several more long, tense minutes, they watched each other like wolves would their prey. In that time, Miles found his respect for the Chief Prosecutor growing; anyone who could last so long in a battle of nerve with Manfred von Karma deserved, at the very least, his respect.

When Manfred huffed in contempt, tearing his gaze away from the Chief Prosecutor, Miles could not help but smile slightly in a contented surprise. His mentor rarely acknowledged defeat in anything; and when he did, it was truly a sight to behold. When he turned around to storm away from Lana, only to lock gazes once again- only this time with Miles.

Miles felt himself freeze. He had not spoken to his adoptive father and mentor since the disastrous phone call from Franziska, Manfred's daughter, and his adoptive sister. He parted his lips to form at least a formal greeting, but the German Prosecutor held no patience for him.

"Leave my sights, boy." He snarled darkly. Miles felt himself unconsciously move aside. The crowd immediately parted to allow the irate man passage through, but Manfred continued to speak to the younger Prosecutor, apparently unaware of the smoldering, angry glare he was receiving behind his back from Lana Skye. "A dishonored little brat like you is beneath my presence, unworthy of speaking puny sentiments. I will not belittle myself by giving pleasantry to you."

Miles felt an unaccustomed, embarrassed warmth spread across his face, and found himself unable to speak. Around him, fellow Prosecutors murmured. Manfred continued as if he could not see them. "A fool you are, that you continue to wear that badge."

As the murmurs around the three Prosecutors progressed further, Miles found himself unable to look his mentor in the eyes. Unlike Lana, his nerves had been worn by surprise and, although he would never admit it, fear for the man. His wrists smarted and stung as if he had been hit with another punishing wooden ruler.

"I...I apologize." He spoke. Even to Miles, his voice sounded shaken and small- weak.

"I will not accept such a pitiful response, even from a pitiable brat such as yourself, Edgeworth."

"In that case, Mr. von Karma, I demand you leave this building." Miles froze as a light hand touched his shoulder gently. His gaze shot upward to find a frightening expression upon the face of Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye. It was she who had spoken, she who had suddenly appearing at his side, despite the obvious danger. Her eyes had, he noticed, at last ignited into a fiery anger. He watched in pure amazement as Manfred turned his full attention- and nerve-rattling dark glare, toward her.

"You again! You dare defend this boy?" Lana stood her ground unflinchingly.

"I do. I allow that Miles Edgeworth is not, as I believe is your creed, perfect. However, as his superior, a fellow Prosecutor, and his friend, I will not stand idly by as he is insulted."

At her words, Manfred realized Lana was not frightened or intimidated by his hulking size or furious voice. His temper strangling whatever other emotion he was feeling, Manfred began to curse her in German. Miles, understanding every word, winced at their menace.

"Wie kannst du es wagen, mich zu sprechen, eine von Karma, in einer solchen unverschämten Stimme! Als eine Frau, eine amerikanische Frau, nicht weniger! Ignorant in der Gegenwart Ihre offensichtliche überlegen, Verteidigung einer entehrt Junge. Junge Hündin, sollte ich herausgeschnitten Zunge und ihn an den Schweinen!"

He spat at her. The disgusting, clear spittle landed directly at her feet.

Her eyebrows rose, first in surprise, then slanted back again. Her expression, much different than before, was calm, much to the surprise of the audience, which had grown quiet with his rapid, foreign rant. The insult was clear, even if his words were not completely understood.

Miles was disgusted, for he knew the insult to be of the highest. He also knew, cruel as Manfred von Karma was, as cold as he was, he had also been known among Germans as one of the few true gentlemen towards the gender opposite of his own. He supposed darkly, as he felt his eyes narrow in anger for Manfred's insults, that American women did not deserve the same courtesy, in his eyes, as German women.

Lana replied quietly, speaking in a biting tone, in what Miles instantly realized was German.

She approached Manfred until the two were almost nose-to-nose. "Raus hier. Senden Sie nur, wenn Sie erhalten den Hinweis ich von Ihnen gefordert haben, Herr von Karma haben."

At first, his expression was clouded in surprise. The lobby was silent- where, when, why did Lana Skye become so profficent in German?

Then the surprise was gone, replaced by a very cruel smile crossed his expression. Manfred nodded, then shoved passed her, violently, causing her to lose her balance and ultimately fall to the marble ground. He spat at her again, and after stealing a lasting, furious glare towards Miles, he stormed out of the office, muttering terrible obscenities in German.

Miles stared at his retreating back, as did those watching.

When angry German Prosecutor had disappeared in the morning mists, a sharp, guilty jolt coursing through his spine, and Miles spun around, intending to help Lana to her feet, only to find her already standing, the same calm eyes glancing around the suddenly nervous crowd as she eyed them.

"I would suggest," She said, causing them to jump at her usually distant, cool tone, despite the insulting event that had just taken place, "We begin our day's work."

Instantly, the crowd jumped into action, rushing towards the stairs and elevators as if their lives, or their careers,depended on it. In the matter of moments, the crowd had dispersed, leaving Miles alone with the Chief Prosecutor, who was eyeing him rather critically.

"I-I'm sorry, Chief Skye-" He began, stumbling over his apology in his haste to speak, before taking a deep breath and composing himself, "I am so sorry."

Lana rose an eyebrow. "Mr. Edgeworth, you have nothing to be apologizing for. Prosecutor von Karma is, for the moment, just another of my subordinates as a Prosecutor. I may be a woman," She added, overriding his objections, "But I am stronger than I seem to be. His insults were, I admit, distasteful, but at the same time, weak."

Miles nodded, all argument dying in his throat as he internally agreed, his newfound respect for her having convincing him. Seemingly satisfied with his wordless answer, Lana continued.

"However, that is not to say you and I are not long overdue for a talk." Miles rose his eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Lana turned away, motioning for him to follow her. "Not here, obviously- in my office. The matter is confidential, as it pertains to a recent question posed to me by the Board of Prosecutors. Follow me, Mr. Edgeworth."

Still at a loss of words, marveling that she seemed unscathed in the wake of such terrible insults, Miles followed behind Prosecutor Lana Skye quietly.

**Author's Note:**

**What Manfred von Karma said was this: "How dare you speak to me, a von Karma, in such an insolent voice! As a woman, an American woman, no less! Ignorant in the presence of your obvious superior, defending a dishonored boy. Young bitch, I should cut out your tongue and feed it to the swine!"**

**And Lana's reply was this: "Get out. Return only when you have received the notice I have demanded of you, Mr. von Karma."**

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**

December 20

10 : 58 P.M. - HPO Office 001

Despite her insistence that she had not at all felt insulted or threatened by Manfred von Karma, Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye still found herself shaking very slightly as she sat down at her desk behind closed doors. Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth sat directly in front of her, calmly. He did not seem to notice her shakiness, or if he did, he thankfully made no mention of it.

"What," He asked finally, breaking a somewhat awkward and uncomfortable silence, "Did you need to speak to me about, Ms. Skye?"

"As I mentioned before, I have been asked a question by the Board of Prosecutors that I have found myself unable to answer." She replied after several thoughtful moments, causing Miles to raise an eyebrow. "The question is one only you can answer, and so, here we are. I need the honest truth, Mr. Edgeworth."

"What is this question?" From his calm expression and serious words, Lana decided quietly that, whatever his answer was, it would at least be the absolute truth.

"Why have you refused to take even a single case for these last several months?"

She watched as Miles closed his eyes for a brief moment. A small sigh escaped him, and with a quiet voice, raising his head to meet het eyes, he responded, "Would you believe me if I told you it was because of certain personal and family disagreements?"

After another short pause, Lana asked, more curious than anything, "I suppose it has something to do with the von Karma family creed of absolute perfection?" When Miles flinched in surprise, Lana smiled without humor. "I am Chief Prosecutor," She admonished him gently, "One cannot be a Prosecutor, here in America or any where else in the world, without hearing the name 'von Karma' and the rumors surrounding the family."

Miles nodded slowly in agreement. "I admit that is part of it. However, it has less to do with Manfred von Karma more to do with his daughter, Franziska."

"A man like that has a child?" Lana muttered under her breath, obviously having been unaware of the fact. Miles rose an eyebrow. Mentally berating herself at a glance of his expression- a cross between reproachful and amusement- she bade him to continue with a slight nod.

"Mr. von Karma and I had...somewhat of a disagreement after the trial of Mr. Powers. Franziska advised me not to take a case until I was certain of a perfect victory. As you can plainly see, I took her advice to heart and have not taken a case since."

"If I may ask, Mr. Edgeworth, what is your relationship with the von Karma family?"

Miles was silent for several second. He answered in an oddly quiet, thoughtful tone of voice, "They are my adoptive family. Mr. von Karma adopted me at nine, after my father had passed. Although I have since lost his blessing, his daughter still sees herself as my sister."

Lana felt herself growing crimson, his answer taking her completely by surprise. "I apologize, Mr. Edgeworth. I had no- " She managed to say, before Miles began shaking his head, causing her to pause uncertainly. His next words caused her to smile slightly.

"Ms. Skye, you have nothing to apologize for. It is, after all, a thing of the past."

Another silence passed between the two, though it was slightly more comfortable than the last. The pause itself was, again, meaningless, but the glances between the two were anything but. Lana knew this friendship may cause her difficulty- already, the guilt over the forged evidence she had been giving him over the past two years was pulsing through her.

It was Miles who finally broke the silence, asking politely, "Would that be all, Ms. Skye?"

Blinking herself out of her thoughts, she nodded. "That would, Mr. Edgeworth. I would suggest avoiding the other Prosecutors until you are ready for another case. I will personally ensure the Board does not force you into taking one." The two stood, though something caught his eye and he paused. Lana followed his gaze to find a small picture of her sister resting on a shelf.

"Your younger sister?" He asked curiously, the photograph never leaving his sights, "She seems a bit familiar."

Of course she seemed familiar to him. Miles had been the Prosecutor- after Neil Marshall had died, of course- of the SL-9 Incident. She and her younger sister, Ema, had been the key witnesses of the that trial. Lana, seeing some danger in the innocent statement, did not remind him of the fact, instead saying, playing the part of the fool, "Does she?"

"Yes." Miles replied simply. Lana watched as he tore his gaze from the photograph and returned it to her. He seemed thoughtful as he crossed his arms, his finger tapping consistently on his arm. Lana instantly recognized the movements as a nervous habit. "Is she under your care?"

Lana closed her eyes briefly. She answered quietly after a moment. "I entered a courtroom for the very first time soon after our parents died in an accident. I had decided to convince the judge to grant me full custody of my sister. I was sixteen at the time, and Ema was four."

"I...I see." As she had been shocked upon learning of his adoption to the von Karma family, he was shocked to learn of her early responsibilities to her younger sister. He regained himself quickly, only slightly flushed, he said, "You and your sister must be very close."

"Yes." Lana said, thinking of the moment the two shared months ago, the instance in which Ema had- only somewhat accidentally- cut her shoulder by throwing a glass at her. It had shattered on impact. Lana had thanked whatever luck was on her side that the injury had gone unnoticed by her fellow Prosecutors. "Yes, we- " Lana was interrupted in her lie by a loud noise coming from a drawer in her desk.

**BING...BONG. BING...BONG. BING...**

Both Prosecutors flinched at the unexpected noise. Lana opened the drawer and, ignoring the amused expression Miles currently wore, answered the call, saying in a monotone greeting, "Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye."

"Lana?" Lana instantly felt the lighthearted moment disappear, replaced by a icy atmosphere, one that her counterpart must have felt, as he instantly seemed to tense, his dark eyes somewhat worried.

"Chief Gant. Good morning."

"Just who do you think you are?" His voice was dangerous, icy. Unwilling to say another word in his presence, Lana sent a meaningful eye toward Miles, who instantly nodded and disappeared through the door leading outside her office. She saw his shadow lurking just outside.

Taking a steady, calming breath, she replied in the same monotone voice as before."I suppose I believe I am the Chief of Prosecutors."

"I have here in my office a Prosecutor by the name of Manfred von Karma." Ignoring Lana, he continued to speak. She detected just a bit of intimidation in his usually deceptively-cheerful tone. She allowed herself a moment to roll her eyes- Manfred von Karma must have somehow put him up to this. "Since he is going to be here in the good ol' United States for a while, and since you and I are such good friends," Lana froze, instantly realizing where this was going, "How about giving him your next big case?"

Lana closed her eyes briefly. "I will arrange it." She felt the usual guilt settle in, already knowing that, justly or not, the poor soul, the Defendant of the next case, would undoubtedly face a 'Guilty' sentence.

"Good! I'll let Mr. von Karma know. Good bye, Lana! Let's hope the next big case isn't too big, eh?"

"Let's hope." Lana replied hopelessly. Somehow, this entire situation gave her a terrible feeling she just could not shake.

Damon Gant laughed cheerfully, having won yet another battle, wished Lana well- "And that sister of yours, too!"- and ended the call. The line went dead.

Lana stared at the device in her hand for several seconds, letting the sudden turn of events sink in. Sighing quietly after it had, she placed the phone on her desk and crossed her office, opening the door. As she suspected, Miles still stood outside. He heard the door open and turned his head. One glance at her slightly worried expression,told him all he needed to know.

"Bad news?"

Lana nodded. "It seems Mr. von Karma is more resourceful than I gave him credit for." She explained, leaving out the fact she had, yet again, allowed herself to be blackmailed into a situation she otherwise would have refused. Seeing his surprised expression, she continued, "I am going to have to give him a case from this office."

"Hopefully, it won't be too important of a case." Miles sighed. Lana agreed. After a few moments, he continued, "Good day, Chief Prosecutor Skye. Thank you again for understanding my reasons for not taking a case. I trust the Board won't give you too much trouble?"

Thinking of the trouble she found herself in at the moment and comparing it to the Board of Prosecutors, Lana allowed herself a very faint smile. "No," She said, "Not too much trouble at all."

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**

**Author's Note:**

**The fact remains that, even though this Fanfiction is likely my longest and most prized so far, I have not received too many reviews. Now, I am not the type to ask for reviews, but because the next installment of this Fanfiction, "Blackened Skyes", needs a character and I am out of ideas, I ask you, the audience, to support me and send me an idea. There are no exact requirements, but the person in question must have a criminal history (the type does not matter too much) and must have, sometime in his\her life, have been caught by Detectives Damon Gant and Lana Skye. **

**Please send me your ideas. This Fanfiction will likely be just two or three more chapters long, and I would like to have the character submissions in before then.**

**Please Send Me Your Ideas! **

** Keep Reading!**

** Serah**


	7. A Reporter and A Verdict

**Author's Note:  
**

**It seems I have gotten into the habit of writing these notices. Ah, well, it is for a great cause. Now, I am sure some of you (if not all) have noticed that I have placed a Companion Piece - "He Will Always Be My Brother" - to this story. If not, I highly suggest reading it. It follows this story in the eyes of Franziska von Karma, and I have been told that it is (if I may indulge in some flattery) one of my greatest works yet.  
**

**I would like to also remind my readers that, for a sequel to be possible, I need ideas for characters. For your convenience (or annoyance, it as it may) I have here a detailed explanation of the "Do's and Do Not's" of the character...****  
**

Your character **MUST** be completely original, for starters. I have no time to sort out "her" original from "his" original character. I've no time for plagiarizing, copy-cat fools, in short. Your character **MUST** have had some trouble with the law, and not petty, barbie-doll crimes such as shop-lifting, drug-dealing, or whatnot. Make your character extravagant and worth-while, interesting for a writer like myself to bring to life! **(Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. Your character could be a thief of jewels, or a contract killer. However, if you do go the "contract killer route, please make NO MENTION of Shelly de Killer.) **You **MUST** include a biography. Name, age, ect. Within this biography, you **MUST** include that your character was at one time or another caught by Detective Damon Gant and Detective Lana , **MUST** must write a small analysis on the personality of your character based on the following three questions: **1. **Your character has been wronged by a Detective! Once out of jail, how does your character get back at that Detective? **2. **Some idiot Detective has crossed your character for the last time! Your character has him\her in your sights; how do your character get rid of the meddling fool? **3. **During the course of the trial, what does your character say to a witness to make them afraid to speak?

**My apologies for the long Author's Note...but the message needs to get out somehow. Now, onto the story...**

**Keep Reading!...and maybe submit your character and review?  
**

** Serah  
**

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Seven : A Reporter and The Verdict**

**January 3**

**4 : 09 P.M. - HPO Office 001**

Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye was, all things considered, a very patient woman. She had taken on the huge responsibilities that had come with raising her younger sister and juggled higher education, and later job as Chief Prosecutor, following her short-lived career as a Detective, and various, different activities of personal interest to boot. Lana prided herself on her decorum in the public eye, as her mother has taught her at a young age. She prided herself on the leashed control she had over herself, on her talent of thrusting the spotlight on anyone but herself.

So why was it that she had spent the last week heatedly debating, furiously arguing, and making a spectacle of herself, all for the sake of a mere murderer?

"It seems we are at an impasse." Stating the obvious was Prosecutor Winston Payne. A wimpy man with an ego that was as ridiculous as his haircut, he was famous within the Prosecutor profession for two reasons; his 'rookie killer' agenda, and his knack for, as mentioned before, stating the obvious. Usually, he was not included in matters of the Board, but he was currently standing in for Miles Edgeworth, who had been barred from attending the meeting because of his so-called personal bias in the matter.

"It seems so." Prosecutor Felicia Chavez snapped sharply, causing Winston to wince, as if in pain. As the second-in-command of the Board of Prosecutors, she held quite a bit of power herself.

The so-called impasse had been created over the decision on whether or not to allow Manfred von Karma to forfeit his right to a trial. These decisions were usually handled by Lana alone, as Chief Prosecutor, but because of the amount of public interest and the fact the Board of Prosecutors challenged Lana's authority on the matter, apparently distrusting her ability to give what each believed the proper response, they were now locked in a game of politics and wits.

They were all but evenly divided on the matter, one group for and one group against allowing the decision to pass, to Lana's chagrin and private amusement. The tally at the moment seemed thus; Prosecutors Chavez, Payne and Roycewich wanted a trial to be held for von Karma despite his wishes, and Prosecutors Domovoi, Pipes and Lana wanted to honor the wishes of the murderer.

Lana was the most outspoken of her lot, and her adversary in the matter was, not that she was surprised, the elected leader of the Board of Prosecutors, Jason Roycewich.

Jason Roycewich had always, even before the SL-9 Incident, been inordinately suspicious of Lana. A very elderly man at age seventy-four, but as fit and active as if he were still in his early forties (though he always carried a cane) he was the American equivalent of German Prosecutor Manfred von Karma, though he had lost one trial, many, many years ago. He was a bulky man and stood shorter than many people, but his fiery but somehow always composed attitude, his witty intelligence, his frightening, glowing electric-blue eyes, and his appearance complete with a black overcoat and a gruff, no-nonsense manner of speech, he made up for his height, or his lack thereof.

"One of the main beliefs that our country was built on, it was, right to a trial." The argument had dragged on for a week now. Lana could not fathom why Jason was so adamant about having a trial when von Karma had already confessed to the murder of Gregory Edgeworth fifteen years ago. He had an ulterior motive, obviously, but what what was it? "I won't let you let another one slide, Skye. Not him, not again. What, don't you have any ounce of pride?"

Lana resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. There he goes again, questioning her pride. "This is not a matter of pride, Roycewich. This is a matter of whether or not to honor a simple request. As for your argument of the foundation of our country, I believe at the same time these rights may be signed away, if a man so chooses to forfeit them. Prosecutor von Karma has done so, going as far as signing a paper doing so. Are you telling me that he does have the right to a trial, but not the right to forfeit it?"

"I'm telling you, Skye, there's nothing worse than a scumbag getting away scot-free."

"Cut the crap, Roycewich." Lana finally felt something inside her snap, whether it be the long-held frustration and pain she had locked away inside since the 'resolution' of the SL-9 Incident, or just her irritation or anger with the man, and she stood up. Lana, for the sake of Ema, had long since given up cursing. As a young teenager, she could curse with the best of them, but now she was heavily against the mere uttering of them.

"You are clouded by your anger towards Prosecutor von Karma." She continued angrily, as Jason rose his thin eyebrows in surprise, saying nothing, "A trial is, to be brutally honest, a waste of time. He has confessed and, frankly, your arguments are weak and based on a notion that has long since died."

"Dead?" Jason thundered, standing up to meet her, his electric-blue eyes burning with anger, causing their fellow Prosecutors to shift and mutter restlessly, "Dead! Are you of your rocker? I think so, Skye, and it didn't happen recently, either," He snorted. "You go ahead, though, and let the guy off. You'd have done so anyway, without consulting anyone. That's the way Ice-Queen Skye works."

Lana felt her hands clench. Jason had only grown harsher towards her after the SL-9 Incident. "Oh?" She managed to ask calmly, that fact surprising even herself, "Then why are we here, Roycewich?"

"It's a show." He answered instantly. "The public expects it, and when this is all over, you're going to say we reached this verdict democratically. You're a sham, Skye. You aren't you. Then again, you haven't been for a while now."

Lana felt the blood drain out of her expression, leaving her paler than a piece of parchment. It was official; Jason knew more than he had previously let on. He knew something about the connection between SL-9 Incident and her choices since then. Lana had long since suspected this, but had denied it whenever asked by Damon Gant, defending him, replying there was no evidence to support the claim.

Now there was proof, handed to her with an electric-blue glare. It placed both Lana and Jason in considerable danger. She would, as much as she hated it, have to report this to Damon Gant. Taking a deep breath in the hopes that she would appear unshaken, she replied icily, "I do not know what you are talking about, Roycewich. This discussion is about the request made by Prosecutor von Karma. Anything else is a distraction to the task at hand. Now, will you sign the damn paper, or will we have to take up this discussion to yet another day?"

"You aren't giving me much choice, are you, Skye?" He growled, ripping the petition away from the middle of the table and signing it with a low curse. He threw the paper at Lana. It landed neatly in front of her. "You're going to look back on this moment and laugh one day, Skye. Mark my words. You'll laugh, but you won't like it."

Lana had no doubt in her mind that Jason Roycewich was absolutely correct.

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**

**January 3**

**5 : 28 P.M. - HPO Office 009**

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. To leave a voice message, please listen for the beep. To leave a text message, please press one. To listen to his message in Spanish, please press two. To listen to this message in German, please press three. To listen to this message in..."

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was feeling, for what seemed the thousandth time, ignored. Of course, the woman he was calling had every right to ignore him, after everything that had happened. Rather than cluttering up the memory of her cell phone with yet another voice-message that would ultimately be deleted without a thought, he simply closed his own device.

"Stubborn girl." He sighed, placing his cell phone on his desk. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, his eye caught the newspaper laying idle on the couch. It had been crumpled, read likely much too often, and dated back a week ago. Unable to mask his expression of pain, be crossed his office and picked it up, instantly captured by the printed words.

**LEGENDARY GERMAN PROSECUTOR ARRESTED FOR MURDER OF AMERICAN DEFENSE ATTORNEY.**

**In the twisted climax of the murder trial of Robert Hammond, well-known Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright uncovered the truth surrounding the DL-6 Incident, in which a Defense Attorney, Gregory Edgeworth, was killed in an elevator after being trapped in an elevator following an earthquake. Wright turned the tables, and the evidence pointed not to the confessing defendant Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, a Prosecutor and the only son of the victim of the DL-6 Incident, but instead on his opponent, legendary 'Perfect' Prosecutor Manfred von Karma.**

**Following his arrest, von Karma confessed everything to the investigators placed on the case. Head Detective Dick Gumshoe gave the following statement to our reporters: "Sad business, pal. Prosecutor von Karma was supposed to be an inspiration to Prosecutors everywhere. Best of the best, see? Now look at everything that's happened. He's a murderer. The fact he tried to pin the blame on Mr. Edgeworth, in the murder of his own father, that just makes it all the worse.**

**The German Embassy has requested that, in light of the undeniable evidence against the German Prosecutor, he be allowed to forfeit his rights to a trial. "Von Karma," A member of the Embassy told reporters, "Has shamed his country and Prosecutors everywhere."**

**Their request is now being processed by the Board of Prosecutors, under the careful leadership of Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye. "Because of the circumstances, a decision will not come quickly," Skye told our reporters in a rather hurried press interview just in front of the Prosecutor's Building, "I have full confidence, however, that whatever the verdict, our decision will be just."**

**If the Board of Prosecutors does not agree with the request of the German Embassy and von Karma, a trial will be held for the crimes of the legendary German Prosecutor. If the decision is made to honor the request, a sentence will be instantly handed down by a District appointed judge. On bates breath, the world awaits the verdict that will decide the fate of a murderer.**

Miles tossed the paper aside. It slowly sank to the ground, like a leaf falling from a branch in the depths of autumn. The arrogance of those reporters knew no bounds and bowed to no master. Those reporters had the unfortunate habit of blowing things out of proportion and embellishing on the juicy tidbits, the drama- but somehow, the truth of the matter, the importance of the matter, was always overlooked.

He wondered briefly what had been printed in Germany, where the reporters were under the strict control of the federal government, and yet just as in-proportionate and blind to the truth. It was more than a worried suspicion that the woman he had, just a few minutes previously, tried to contact was experiencing the sort of social and political backlash that came with being the daughter of a disgraced and proven 'imperfect' Prosecutor- the kind of backlash that came with being the daughter of a murderer.

It were these worried thoughts that led him to snatch up his phone from his desk and dial a number that he had memorized years before. He expected to go ignored, as he had the past week, and so he was greatly surprised when her tired voice answered his call, following the fourth sound. "Good evening?" He noticed that she had answered in German.

Her voice was quiet and held some confusion in it. Miles guessed that, like his adoptive sister would have in a normal situation, she had not checked the identification that had come along with his call. He chose his next words with absolute care and caution, answering in German with just a bit of mental irritation, "It's me."

Some cautions and cares needed to be stated bluntly.

"Miles Edgeworth?" Her surprise caused him to both wince and smile slightly. He smiled because she had not suspected that he would still care for her, despite what had happened. He winced because that in itself proved that his suspicions about her current situation were correct. He snapped to attention at her next words. "What foolishness is this? Why have you contacted me? Father..."

"Can do nothing. Do not play the fool." Miles interrupted her flatly. "I know, you of all people, know what has happened. News of this sort travels rather fast...doesn't it, Franziska?"

Miles heard her acknowledging sigh. He doubted any but he could have noted the emotions in her following response (other than the characteristic annoyance and impatience that she presented to the outside world.) She said, these aforementioned emotions masking her voice, "Why have you contacted me?"

"I was worried."

"Fool," Franziska scoffed, "It is unfounded."

"No, I don't think so. The foundation of my worries can be proven with mere logic." Miles answered, his concern for her stronger than his irritation at her lack of honesty. She said nothing, prompting him to continue, "Your father and mentor has been arrested for the murder of a Defense Attorney fifteen years ago. As his daughter, his name is your own, and this has cast you into his shadow. The German public is likely calling for a review of all the cases you have overseen...and for much more than that besides."

Franziska was still silent, saying nothing. Her breath, however, was unsteady, telling him that his logic was correct. He argued with himself on whether or not he should keep talking; on the one hand, he was close to a breakthrough. Franziska would tell him her situation, and if it were pressing enough, he could rush to her aid. On the other hand, however, he knew he was causing her pain by speaking to her.

He could not imagine the sort of pain she had to be concealing from him- having been told that Manfred von Karma, her father, had murdered Gregory Edgeworth, his father, fifteen years ago.

Before Miles could choose, however, Franziska surprised him once more by speaking. Her voice was full of barely restrained anger. "Why do you care? I would have thought you would want nothing to do with the name 'von Karma' after that foolishly foolish fool of a Defense Attorney proved my father a murderer." A dark, bitter bark of laughter followed that quiet statement. "And the man he killed was your father, no less." As she spoke, her voice suddenly grew calm, almost frightfully so. "That fool."

Miles opened his mouth to protest, but froze as he realized that man she was calling a fool just might not have been his father. Franziska spoke again. "This is my problem, Miles Edgeworth. A problem for the von Karma family- and I can no longer call you brother. I don't have the right."

"Franziska!" His voice grew sharp as his voice and concern for his adoptive sister grew higher.

"I can't call you my brother, Miles Edgeworth." Her voice had gone from frighteningly calm, to frighteningly unemotional. It was something, he remembered, that her father had somehow taught her to do- like him, though only on occasion, she could control her emotions as one would control a light-switch. Despite that, however, he sensed a heavy guilt in her words. "It was my father who killed your father!" When that statement of fact was shouted, Miles could not help but flinch.

"I understand it now, Miles Edgeworth, why he adopted you." Miles closed his eyes briefly. He has also realized this during the course of the past week. It was truly a pity that Franziska had realized the sad truth so soon. "He did so in vengeance, and I foolishly went along with him- "

Miles could stand it no longer.

"Franziska!" He burst out, his interruption causing her to catch her breath, "For someone so brilliant, you have a habit of being quite the idiot." She said nothing in return, likely too shocked to speak. Taking advantage of her shocked silence, he continued, "You're blaming yourself for what your father has done. None of this, none of it at all, is in any way your fault. You're trapped in that mentality that his mistakes are your own." Taking a deep breath, he told her, hoping she would understand and accept his words, "You are not your father. I still think of myself as your brother, Franziska. I always will."

A long pause followed his words. Miles waited, his heart racing, for her reply.

"Miles Edgeworth," She said finally, after several tense minutes, "You are a fool." Miles briefly closed his eyes, a heavy, bitter disappointment flooding his heart. "But," She relented after another, yet brief pause, causing Miles to freeze, a faint ember of hope instantly igniting during yet another pause, in which she seemed to think over her next words. She repeated, "You are a fool, but you are my foolishly foolish brother."

Miles could not help but smile a small smile, despite everything that had happened in the past week. "Of course I am your brother, Franziska."

"That doesn't mean you can gallop here to Germany, thinking I need your help, Miles Edgeworth." She said this while chucking, but Miles knew that the warning was true nonetheless. She continued speaking after her chuckles had subsided. "Because I don't. You were correct in saying that my cases were under review, and that in itself may prove a problem, considering who was in charge of them," Here there was a pause, and Miles detected just a sliver of her concealed pain as she continued, "But I doubt that I will be forced to hand in my badge, or even reprimanded. Those cases were under his direct supervision, and I was...I was a child- a foolish child, but a child nonetheless."

Miles sighed. "We were both fools, Franziska."

She did not argue, which surprised him. Instead, she said, "I...I should go. It seems a member of the American Embassy is on another line. Perhaps a verdict has been handed down by your Chief Prosecutor. You would do well to speak to her about the subject, get the news before it reaches the newspapers. Reporters, be they American or German, seem to have an unfortunate habit of reporting foolishly foolish things."

Miles agreed. The two said their good-bye to the other, and an annoying noise from his cell phone told him that she had disconnected the line. Placing the phone down on his desk, Miles Edgeworth sighed a heavy sigh.

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**

**January 4**

**4 : 12 P.M. - Reporter's Office 2819**

A photograph, which lay on a reporter's desk, was taken during the public announcement of the fate of Manfred von Karma. The photograph was not at all unique; hundreds, perhaps thousands, of photographs total were taken by reporters and civilians alike that warm, late afternoon. But unlike the rest of them, this photograph had captured a moment of time that was unlike any other.

The photograph captured the very moment that Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye announcing the decision made by the Board of Prosecutors. The Chief of Police Damon Gant stood directly behind her, a friendly hand on her shoulder. Behind him were the other Board members, each of them wearing an expression of a forced calm, but the surprise was plain to see. One face, however, stuck out among them; the expression of the elected leader of the Board of Prosecutors, Jason Roycewich. His eyes were wide, and his lips were open in what seemed to be a half-formed gasp.

There was a note next to the photograph, supposedly a suggested headline.

**"UNANIMOUS VOTE DESPITE COMPLICATIONS; VON KARMA TO STAND TRIAL".**


	8. Ironic, Hypocritical Things

**Author's Note**

**Short notice this time; I just wanted to let my lovely readers know that I took some creative liberties with the Skye family history, for the sake of both my sanity and the sake of the plot. I have also given both parents names; Arthur and Alice Skye. I hope you can understand my position, considering no details were given to us about the topic in question. Also, small reminder, check my profile for details concerning the creation of an original character for the sequel of this Fanfiction. Lastly, after this chapter, there will be one more and an epilogue, and that will be that for this story.**

**Keep Reading, Keep Reviewing,**

**Serah**

**Grey Skyes**

**Chapter Eight** : Ironic, Hypocritical Things

**February 20**

**1 : 12 P.M. - Downtown Los Angeles, Central Park**

Ema Skye found herself, not for the first time, in the park where she and her family had frequently visited before her parents deaths when she was just a few years old. Some of her first memories had been in this park, complete with its own playground, tennis court, picnic tables, and even its own pet walking trail. (Ema had once seen a peculiar, old man in dressed in a peculiar, pink coat toting around a colorful tropical bird on the very same trail. She saw the same man in the news back in December, being arrested for murder. It seemed it is a small world, after all.)

Her very first memory, however, was back way before she even knew the park existed in a new world, a world just outside her home just a few miles away, just outside Los Angeles so far back in her memory that Ema would have believed it all had just been a dream- except that sister had told her the story herself, from her point of view.

That couldn't be a coincidence, Ema told herself firmly. It was scientifically impossible.

The memory was of an incident that happened while she and her older sister were playing together in the fields that were once owned by their parents. (Their parents, as far as she remembered, and as far as Lana would elaborate on the subject, had been land-developers for the city. That was how their parents had met; in a class for such things.) During one of these things, Lana and Ema had fallen victims to a series of unfortunate events, one right after another.

First, as unbelievable as it sounds, the sisters had gotten lost. Not 'lost' as like some children do, pretending they were lost and then 'miraculously' finding their way home again. (Lana had, on countless occasions, described to her younger sister the aforementioned events, and how it had been one of their favorite games.) They were actually 'lost'. Even Lana had no idea whatsoever where they were. Later, Lana told her that they had traveled almost a mile-and-a-half from their house.

Next, they had stumbled onto a small creek filled with tepid water, which was a breeding ground (unbeknownst to even Lana at the time) for snakes, frogs, mosquitoes, and other critters. (The frogs, Lana had told her sister, Had not frightened either of them. In fact, Ema wanted to bring one of them home to their mother.) While Ema endeavored to catch a frog, Lana explored their surroundings until she heard a loud hiss; and realized that, somewhere hidden in the wet and untended grass, lurked an angry snake. Instantly realizing that she and her sister were in considerable danger, she called out to Ema, who instantly panicked and ran off- without waiting for Lana to catch up to her.

Which turned out to be a very, very bad thing to do, and the reason that the two had later been banned from exploring the fields ever again.

Ema, at almost three years old, was new at running and very clumsy. Although Lana was several yards (perhaps twenty) behind Ema, she theorized that Ema had not been looking where she was going, in her haste to get away from whatever danger Lana had spotted, and her foot was caught by a gopher-hole. It twisted, and Ema fell down, yelping in pain. Lana was still a ways behind her.

And that was about when Ema heard something snarl. It was a loud snarl, to be sure, but weak. Ema looked up and, not thirty feet away from her, straight ahead, was a scruffy-looking dog.

The sight of the dog would normally have excited Ema, and had the situation been different, she would have asked Lana to help her find its owner; the poor thing was surely lost. But the dog had this...look about it. It looked like death warmed over, and even from her distance away from it, she could see it was frothing at the mouth and its fur and skin was crawling with critters, eating it from the outside in.

That dog, Ema had learned, years after this event, was rabid, infected with a disease that created madness, and was a much larger threat than an angry snake (or, at least, in her personal opinion it was.)

Any bite of an infected animal could cause terrible sickness if not taken care of, Ema could remember her mother telling Lana as-a-matter-of-factually. The bite, in some circumstances, could be deadly.

Lana had known that. Something about that knowledge- "The fear, perhaps," Lana had later admitted- caused her to begin to yell like a madman, very effectively distracting the canine from her sister. The canine inched toward Lana, who instantly dashed away, incensing the sick dog to lunge, beginning a sort of deadly game of chase. Ema, meanwhile, yelled helplessly, desperately, at her sister.

Suddenly, Lana appeared at her side, grasping Ema's shoulders roughly and forcing her up and over her own shoulders and sprang into a powerful stride. The sick dog chased them, but Lana seemed too fast for the animal.

Ema would have enjoyed this sensation, had circumstances been different- this sensation of flying, of absolute speed. But the sharp, feral howl seemingly close behind she and her sister brought back the reality that both of them were in very real danger.

"I think my ankle's hurt!" Ema remembered yelling at her sister at one point.

"One emergency at a time!" Lana yelled back.

At fifteen years old, Lana was, to three-year-old Ema, the very definition of 'cool'. Even back then, even before their parents had been killed in the accident, Lana had taken care of her little sister, with or (more often) without their expressed wishes. Lana, not their parents, took her to school, helped her dress, fed her, the list went on and on.

It occurred to Ema now, as she sat, staring at nothing as she relived the memory, sitting under a bench under a shady tree in the park, that Lana had run over a mile without a single break. The dog had stopped chasing them long before they reached their house, but Lana had continued to run, holding Ema as though she were a newborn all over again. Although she was in pain because of the ankle she had hurt, Ema had, from the instant Lana had picked her up, felt completely safe. Even with that rabid dog chasing Lana as she ran through the field of long, dead, yellowed grass, she had felt safe.

Their parents had, obviously, grown extremely worried with their prolonged disappearance. A long-agreed curfew had been set into place whenever Lana took Ema outside for the day, and that curfew was simply to be in perfect eyesight range before the sun went down. This night, of course, they had not, but since Lana had never broken the curfew before, their parents, Arthur and Alice Skye, simply believed the elder sister had forgotten and expected a sincere apology for her mistake. However, as the sky grew darker and darker, their worry grew more into a panic. Alice phoned the police, and Arthur, an accomplished outdoors man, hunter, and very well-versed in the land surrounding his property, went out looking for their daughters.

Lana had told her sister that she distinctly remembers three things about that night, above all else. Ema remembered this part of the conversation the most simply because of the pure honesty her sister had given her.

One, Lana remembers the fear. The fear at realizing a snake may have been hidden in the grass; the fear that Ema's ankle was not sprained, but broken (which, unfortunately, it had been) and the fear that the rabid dog would catch her and bite Ema, and the fear that usually accompanies a teenager when they realize they are completely and utterly screwed when they finally get home.

Two, Lana remembers the feeling of shame that coursed through her when their father found her, gasping for breath and shaking from exertion, on the steps of their house when he opened the door to begin his search for them. His harsh demeanor toward the incident, whenever it was mentioned, and his words made it clear that he blamed her for what had happened, and for what could have happened. Lana claimed that she did not hate or even resent him for this- "I was, after all, the one in charge of you."

And third, Lana remembers the feeling of absolute horror when her father came back the morning after and wordlessly handed her a dog's collar. It was rusted and bore the scent of earth, blood, and death.

She still had that collar, Ema thought, She still has it. I've seen it in her bedroom before

A sick kind of keepsake from their late father.

All in all, all Ema really remembered about that evening in the fields (without Lana's prompting) were the consequences; that her ankle kept her in bed for several weeks, and that Lana never took her out 'exploring' again.

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**

**February 20**

**1 : 23 A.M. - Downtown Los Angeles, Central Park**

There were entire lists of things that the world did not know about Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth. For one, as one could plainly see this afternoon, he owned a dog. His name was Pess, and it was Pess that he had brought with him to the park this fine, sunny afternoon. At the moment, as the two walked toward the entrance of Central Park, the purebred golden retriever was curiously sniffing the air.

But anyway, he personally believed that the reason for this was because the people around here (or at least, the people he was forced to be surrounded by, thanks to his profession) saw in him what they wanted to see. But then, all minds are different, so it is only natural that different people saw him in very different ways. Usually, that meant these people could be sorted into one of three groups.

Some saw him as the 'Demon Prosecutor', a corrupt man using any methods he needed, all to get his guilty verdict. To their credit, at one time this described the 'real' Miles Edgeworth. These people were usually fellow Prosecutors, Defense Attorneys, and others connected to law, such as judges, Defendants and local police. Not altogether coincidentally, this group was by far the largest.

Others saw him as a tragic hero of some sort. His father had been murdered by Miles' mentor, Manfred von Karma, and turned him away from his boyhood dream of becoming a Defense Attorney, just like his father had been, before his untimely death. In short, they blamed his mentor for the way he turned out. These people were usually people who read the morning news, and most of them seemed to just so happened to be young women.

The last group was the smallest group, comprised of people who did not believe that he was truly the person he presented to the world. And like the first group mentioned, it was not a coincidence that this group was comprised of the few men and women he saw as his friends and allies. Included in this short list was his adopted sister, Franziska von Karma, Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright, and his assistant and spirit medium, Maya Fey. Quite oddly enough, her elder sister, Mia Fey, was quite comfortably settled in the first group. Miles could never really figure that one out.

A more recent addition to this list was Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye. Although, Miles reflected, as he continued down the stone path leading into Central Park, She was, unfortunately, more of an ally than a friend. She seemed to have distanced herself even further from those who otherwise would befriend her, since the State Versus Edgeworth trial two months ago. It seemed whatever shadow that has plagued her after the SL-9 Incident still follows her.

Miles himself had connections to the SL-9 Incident. He was a bit blurred on the details, as it was a rather quick matter for him, but knew from the moment the trial had begun that something was off. He did remember, however, that the Chief Prosecutor had been a witness. But there was also someone else that had been a witness, too...someone else...

Wait, he remembered now. But why had Lana- "Ah!"

Suddenly, Pess darted off, dragging a surprised Miles with him.

Miles had obviously trained the dog very well, but as Miles was aware, even the most trained, the most perfect of anything, had flaws in its own right. Miles commanded the retriever to heel, but instead, Pess continued to dash between civilians, still dragging along a rather helpless Miles...

...until, that is, Pess seemingly reached his destination and sat in front of it- or rather, her. His tail was waving about wildly, small whines emanating from him, looking up at a young woman. She was dressed in a white laboratory coat, which was decorated by many strange buttons, and dark blue jeans. She carried a small book, which had been abandoned, laying on the bench she sat at under a shaded tree. She looked surprised, as Miles had himself when Pess had suddenly jumped into action.

She, however, took the turn of events better than he did, and simply lowered a hand to allow the dog to sniff her hand. Overjoyed by whatever it is he caught the scent of, Pess took the opportunity to greet the teenager with a happy bark and a very wet greeting. She did not seem disgusted, which an embarrassed Miles was eternally grateful for. When Pess finally backed off, she stood up, smiling.

"Well," She said cheerfully, "That was scientifically unexpected!"

Miles rose his thin eyebrows. "Good afternoon to you, too." The girl looked somewhat familiar. Perhaps she was a relative from a Defendant he had Prosecuted in the past...

"What's his name?" She questioned curiously, oblivious to his thoughts, "A golden retriever, right?"

"Pess," He replied, "And as you guessed, he is a purebred golden retriever. He is usually very well behaved." He threw the dog a small glare. Pess, if dogs could show such expressions, was smirking back up at him. Shaking his head, Miles continued to speak and introduced himself. "I'm Miles Edgeworth." He did not expect a teenager to recognize his name, but this cheerful teenager was full of surprises, and her eyes widened almost comically.

"My sister talks about you a lot." That was certainly not the answer he was expecting. Perhaps her sister was of his second group of people... "I'm sure you know her, Mr. Edgeworth- Lana's the Chief Prosecutor, after all!" Okay, perhaps not. Miles must have given away his shock and surprise in his expression, because the teenager laughed good-naturally. "I'm Ema Skye, high school student. But I prefer to think of myself as a forensic scientist in the making."

The instant Miles heard her name, the blurry memories of the SL-9 Incident came flooding back to him.

The Joe Darke serial murder cases, in which a murderer of the same name killed no less than four people in a panicked, desperate effort to conceal a simple hit-and-run.

The death of rising-star Prosecutor Neil Marshall inside the very walls of the Police Department offices,.in the joint office of the legendary Detective duo, Damon Gant. He had supposedly died protecting someone from Joe Darke, and that certain someone later became the witness the Detectives on the case needed to put together a case for their Prosecution, of which Miles headed.

Ema Skye.

"I-I see. Your sister does great work." Even before the death- or murder, as it was- of his father, Miles had never been the most socially-aware of people. He preferred to be alone most of the time, though two certain people made the saying 'even lone wolves know they work better in packs' come to life. Nowadays, he blamed his lack of social tact on the same man who took his father away from him.

Something about what he said caused a peculiar change in Ema's expression- from cheerful to sad. "Lana is the greatest," Ema said, her voice hinting to something Miles did not understand, "At Prosecuting." Her expression changed again, back to almost unbearable cheerfulness. "But the ceremony tonight is going to prove me wrong though, huh, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Miles rose his brows. Just how many people were aware of his 'victory'? Though, he was talking to the younger sister of the Chief Prosecutor herself, so her knowing the recipient of the 'King of Prosecutors' award was easy to imagine. Miles said, crossing his arms in his usual impatient manner, "I'm losing a day of work to receive that toy of an award." It was true; he had been ordered to take the day off to 'prepare' for this highest honor.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Mr. Edgeworth." Ema advised, ever-cheerful. Despite himself, Miles found himself smiling slightly. Her cheerfulness was contagious.

"I suppose," He allowed, still smiling his slight smile, "That at the very least, the thing will be a worthy addition to my office decorations."

"Well, there you go! I'm sure it will, Mr. Edgeworth! I've seen it myself, it doesn't look too bad..." Ema laughed, and Miles felt his mood lift higher than it had been in months. Something about her cheerfulness, as he had noticed before, was contagious...

...Which begs a question- since her elder sister, Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye, lived with this cheerful girl, what had happened during the SL-9 Incident that had drove Lana's 'true self' into hiding?

Somehow, he knew Ema would not take the question well. Keeping that particular question to himself, he asked instead, not quite able to allow his curiosity with the Skye sisters go, "Your sister, she is your guardian?"

Obviously, he knew the answer. Lana had inadvertently told him this, when he had met with her to discuss the then-heavy rumor about 'them'. Miles had, even then, realized, quite by accident, after leaving her office, that he had a- what was it? Ah!- a crush (a silly as it sounds) on the Chief Prosecutor.

It seemed an ironic, hypocritical thing, everything considered.

Ema answered, again oblivious to his thoughts, "Yes, she is." Was Miles imagining it, or was that resentment in her voice? "Our parents died in a car accident when I was four. Lana fought the state or Child Protective Services or whatever for custody. That was her first time in court." As quickly as it had come, the resentment vanished, replaced, again, with an overbearing cheerfulness.

A cheerfulness, Miles was beginning to think, That hid something more than a little resentment.

"She's a natural for court stuff. I remember this one time..."

As their light-hearted and friendly conversation continued, Miles decided that, for the sake of Ema (at least, that is what he told himself) he would find the answer- the truth!- to his question: exactly what about the SL-9 Incident had changed Lana Skye so dramatically?

As it turned out, Miles would not have to wait long for his chance to uncover her truth.

**:: - Grey Skyes - ::**


End file.
